


If your love is just a dream

by OrangeMentats



Series: If your love is just a dream anthology [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Minor AU, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rarepair, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeMentats/pseuds/OrangeMentats
Summary: Rodrigue never expected to love again and definitely never expected to develop feelings for his son's new Professor.
Relationships: Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Series: If your love is just a dream anthology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000977
Comments: 33
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

Rodrigue had not expected his son to respond to his letter requesting aid; Felix’s disdain for him was almost without parallel, as much as it pained him to admit it. The Shield of Faerghus had rallied his troops and headed east from the castle to the latest village to request protection from the bandits that were marauding and pillaging their way across the Kingdom. After his last encounter with bandits his troops were weary, many were injured and Rodrigue knew it would be a tough battle if his son’s reinforcements didn’t arrive. It was pitiful really, a noble lord struggling to protect his own subjects from outlaws and raiders but that was the reality of living in Faerghus since Lambert’s death. It seemed that law and order in the Kingdom had all but disintegrated with no King of age to present a united front against villains and thieves. 

The raiders attacking this town seemed to have no appreciation for human life, butchering villagers indiscriminately where they found them. His soldiers were doing their best to protect those that were left but were vastly outnumbered. Atop his destrier, a great black stallion that snorted and pawed at the ground as if itching to get back into the fray, Rodrigue took stock of the situation unfolding before him. The fighting was continuing throughout the village, with the bandits using a number of houses as strongholds which his soldiers couldn’t quite breach while others chased down fleeing villagers without prejudice. They were indeed unfortunate circumstances. 

As he wheeled his destrier around to get one last look over the battlefield, his gaze was drawn to a procession of soldiers approaching from the south and Rodrigue found himself squinting to try and get a better look at them. Too well organised to be bandits and certainly not his own men, he spied flashes of familiar coloured hair within the group. 

“Felix, my son. You’ve finally brought reinforcements!” 

He could just about make out the way his son scowled and turned his attention away from him, as if he couldn’t bear to hear his father’s praise. Some things would never change. It brought him great pride to see his son’s childhood friends within the group, Sylvain atop a grey palfrey and Ingrid on a pegasus just like she’d always dreamed of. And Dimitri, looking like a vision of his father in his younger days - it almost brought him to tears. Lastly, his gaze settled on a teal-haired woman in a billowing cloak that was recognisable as his son’s professor, the one that Felix had spoken so highly of in the few letters he’d sent since leaving to attend the Officer’s Academy. 

With Felix and his class arriving, Rodrigue felt much more at ease. Spurring his destrier forward, he lowered his lance and collided with a thief clad in studded leather. The man collapsed under the impact and the Duke found himself falling into a rhythm, making his way through the streets and running down any bandits in his path. He hadn’t expected to be cornered, his stallion pacing and wiggling beneath him as if sensing the danger they were in. He parried an attack from a man with a sword and readied himself for a blow from one of the others, when a flash of teal and black struck the man down. She took out one, then a second in quick succession and Rodrigue used the opening to spear the final man himself. She turned to him for a moment, big blue eyes searching his face for any sign of pain or injury, nodded and then was gone as quickly as she came, throwing herself into battle alongside Sylvain. 

Rodrigue followed his son’s professor back to the centre of the village, making quick work of the remaining outlaws. It felt like a privilege watching her fight and he could soon see why his son held her in such high esteem. She was quick, strong and graceful, wasting no energy in her attacks and making her class - including his son - look like a bunch of apes brandishing their assorted weapons. There was an elegance to the way she fought that came with true mastery of a weapon, her sword almost an extension of her arm. She was also clearly an accomplished leader and strategist, barking orders at her class and them obeying without question. To get such obedience from Felix, of all people, seemed like quite the achievement. 

Once the last of the raiders had been dispatched, he dismounted his horse and handed the reins to a squire, giving the animal a quick pat of thanks for performing so admirably. He couldn’t ask for a better mount when times were as hard as these. Rodrigue cast his eye over his forces and those that accompanied his son; their losses had been negligible, thankfully, and only one or two were severely injured. Truly, he could not have expected such an outcome if Felix had not come to his aid. 

He finally found his son conversing with the woman who had saved him from being, at best, gravely injured. Felix’s mood seemed to shift almost instantly upon sight of his father, and Rodrigue felt the sting of sorrow in his heart. He had never meant to ruin his relationship with Felix in such a way. Feeling the shift in her student’s disposition, the professor turned to face him. She regarded him with a blank expression, large blue eyes appraising him in a way he found slightly unsettling. 

“Thank you for coming. We are grateful for your help,” His gaze moved from his son to his teacher, before bowing deeply. “Truly, I am in your debt.” 

She held his gaze as he straightened, clearly aware of what he was referring to. He didn’t want his son to become aware that she had saved him, as prideful as it was he didn’t need to give Felix any more poison with which to coat his barbed words. His son thought him weak enough already, knowing that his life had been saved by his professor simply would not do. The teal-haired woman simply nodded in acknowledgement, before becoming witness to what was a fairly typical father-son disagreement. As always, any mention of Lambert or his duty as the Duke of Fraldarius raised Felix’s hackles. Once his son had stormed off to join his friends, Rodrigue sighed and rubbed his face, acutely aware that the professor was watching him with that same blank expression as before. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. He’s been that way for four years now, ever since the Tragedy. I understand his sentiment, to some extent. It all comes down to.. well, a difference of opinion.”

He didn’t know why he was bearing such things to her, he didn’t even know her name - in all Felix’s letters he had only ever referred to her as his professor and in the brief time he had spent with her in Garreg Mach moons earlier, he hadn’t been introduced to her by name. 

Her gaze had followed his own and seemed to be watching Felix, Sylvain and Ingrid with quiet contemplation. When she spoke, it was entirely unexpected. 

“I understand Felix as well.”

She stated simply, the very slightest upturn of her lips visible on her features. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, but such a soft expression made him acutely aware of just how young she looked. Goddess, she couldn’t be much older than her students, if at all.

“How fortunate Felix is to have met someone like you. There’s nothing as heartening as having someone around who really understands you. He’s an odd boy, thick-headed in some ways. But he’s my son all the same. I’m glad he has you to look after him.” 

The compliment made her smile enough to reach her eyes and she was so bright and radiant it was like looking at the sun. 

"I appreciate your faith in me. If I am completely honest, I cannot say that many people have had such confidence in me since my appointment at Garreg Mach." 

She admitted quietly, arms crossed over her torso in a way that made her seem impossibly small. That did not seem right at all, from what he had seen she was a competent fighter and instructor and Felix's letters had not been short in their praise for her, which was a rarity by any account. The only hesitancy he had heard from his son was that she had no prior teaching experience and had been a mercenary before coming to the monastery, but clearly she has taken to the role of professor like a duck to water. 

The professor rubbed her arms as they stood together in silence, watching her class like two proud parents. Faerghus' chill was biting in the Red Wolf Moon, and it was no surprise that the professor was shivering as the first flakes of snow began to fall. Her eyes turned skyward, her expression shifting from quiet contentment to thoroughly dejected. 

"I take it you are not used to the cold of a Faerghus winter." 

"Is it that obvious?" 

She replied, mirth obvious in her voice despite the chill. 

"My father preferred to work in more temperate climates," a pause, "and I did not exactly dress for the occasion." 

She gestured to her outfit and his eyes followed her hand downwards, taking in her exposed midriff and legs clad only in tights patterned with wyverns and flowers. He chuckled to himself, she most certainly was not dressed for Faerghus' weather. Her gaze shifted back towards her students while he took the opportunity to unfasten the clasps of his cloak, much thicker and warmer than her own. It would not do for his son's professor to catch a chill, he told himself. She started slightly as he placed the cloak about her shoulders, before allowing him to fasten it. 

"Thank you." She murmured, hand reaching up to touch the soft fabric and brushing his own in the process. She must have been freezing, her cheeks clearly flushed from the cold. 

"The weather is changing, a storm is sure to follow. You are welcome to stay the night at Castle Fraldarius and depart when the weather has cleared, if you do not have to return to Garreg Mach immediately."

"That is a very kind offer. If it isn't too much of an imposition, I think the students would like that."

He shook his head. 

"It is no imposition at all, it would be my pleasure." 

"Then I will get the students ready to depart, the sooner we're out of this cold the better."

She almost instinctively pulled his cape tighter around herself as she started in the direction of her class.

"And Rodrigue," she began, glancing back over her shoulder, "thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

The journey back to the castle was fairly uneventful, although Rodrigue was acutely aware of his son's scowl every time he glanced back over his shoulder at the group. Clearly he was displeased with his professor's decision to wait out the storm rather than returning to Garreg Mach. The professor had chosen to walk with her class rather than borrow a horse from one of his knights, each of the students vying doggedly for her attention.

Sylvain was being, well, Sylvain - offering to let the professor ride in front of him on his palfrey with a wink. Ingrid punched him in the arm, chastising him for his behaviour as she always had. The professor respectfully declined his offer before launching into a spirited conversation with a young blonde woman and a small ginger girl. Dimitri and his retainer - Dedue, if he remembered correctly - discussed their tactics in battle and how they could improve, which was befitting of the future King of Faerghus. Felix trailed at the rear of the group, just behind two boys with ginger and silver hair respectively and a dark-haired girl, none of which he recognised.

Rodrigue could positively feel his son's gaze boring into his back as he rode. When he next turned round to check on the group, he found that Felix was now scowling at the cloak draped around his professor's shoulders. Would the boy rather have seen her freeze?

The snow was falling more heavily now, settling on the sleeves of his overcoat before melting into nothingness. While he did not miss the addition of his cloak, he had a feeling the professor would have been miserable without it. He watched her pull it tighter as she walked quietly beside him, seemingly content with the comfortable silence which had settled between them as a change from the rowdiness of her students. She alternated between the peace at the head of the column and spending time with her students, Dimitri and Dedue both having badgered her for an appraisal of their performance in the village.

When they were about half an hour from the castle, the professor approached him again, gently nudging his leg to get his attention.

"Rodrigue, if it isn't too much trouble could my students use the kitchens once they've settled in? Mercedes and Annette would like to bake some sweets for you and your men, as thanks for your kindness."

"There's really no need," he began, hoping to stress that he was not seeking any reward from inviting her and her class to stay the night. "But I will speak to the cooks when we arrive and ensure they have access to everything they need."

The professor's face brightened and with a swift dip of her head she was gone again, relaying the news to her students who seemed delighted by his response. To bring such happiness to others gave him a satisfaction he had not felt in a long time.

The final approach to the castle was uphill and he could hear some of the students begin to complain about the incline. Castle Fraldarius had been built on a hill by his ancestors, a good defensible position from which to repel invasions from Sreng. The curtain wall extended along the edges of the hill itself, making breach of the walls almost impossible. The castle did not have the grandeur of Garreg Mach or the royal castle in Fhirdiad but nonetheless he was proud to call it home.

As the group made their way through the barbican and into the courtyard beyond, squires and stable boys rushed out to greet them and retrieve the horses and pegasi. He dismounted his stallion as the professor continued to usher her students into the bailey, which she finished with a quick head count. Rodrigue got the attention of one of the attendants milling about and asked him to ensure rooms were prepared for their guests and that the cooks were to prepare a banquet for the evening. The man nodded and hurried inside to find more of the castle's staff to assist him.

"Professor!"

He called out, pulling her attention away from the young prince. She gave a small wave of acknowledgment, excused herself from Dimitri and made her way to his side.

"I have asked for rooms to be made up for you and the students, although they will need to share. Unfortunately we don't have quite the same capacity as Garreg Mach."

"Thank you Rodrigue, I apologise for causing you such trouble. Please let me know if the cooks or hunters need any help in preparing dinner, if there's anything I can do to help-"

He shook his head.

"There is no need to trouble yourself Professor, it is a pleasure to host you and your class tonight."

"Well if you're sure..." She began, "but really, if your staff need assistance both myself and the students would be happy to help."

What a conscientious young woman she was, but it would not do for guests under his roof to spend their day doing chores. It was then that his attendant reappeared, bowing deeply before advising that 5 rooms on the second floor and one on the third would be available within the hour. Rodrigue gave the man his thanks before turning to the professor again.

"It seems your class will have to busy themselves until the rooms are ready, they are welcome to rest in the sitting rooms or hall if they wish. I'm sure Felix or Dimitri could show the others round."

He took a moment to look over the group stood in the courtyard, it had been so long since the castle had been this busy. When he thought about it, they probably hadn't had this many visitors since Lambert and his retinue had last come to visit before the Tragedy. It brought him joy to see Felix and his friends back home, it made the keep feel a little less lonely. Of course, there wasn't much time for him to feel lonely with how busy he kept himself, but the feeling would creep into the corners of his mind in quieter moments. He shook his head slightly, now was not the time to get caught up in such thoughts.

"Can I interest you in a tour of the grounds?"

"I would like that very much. Let me just get the students caught up."

The professor turned and strode away, his cloak fluttering behind her in the biting Faerghus wind. The colour suited her. Perhaps he should ask his tailor to make one in the same fabric as a gift- no, that would be a bit presumptuous for a woman he had only met twice.

She gathered her students together to give them an overview of the plan for the day. From what he could hear, Felix and those that had visited before were to get the others acquainted with the common areas and figure out who was to be bunking with who. Dimitri and Sylvain launched themselves into the task enthusiastically, while Ingrid seemed more preoccupied with talking to Felix. He would have to get used to the idea of staying the night eventually.

As Dimitri began ushering the other students into the keep, the professor returned to his side. Rodrigue was acutely aware of Felix's scowl as the two began to walk together, but soon he too disappeared inside.

They strolled through the grounds in comfortable silence, neither really seeing the need to make conversation with the other. First they passed the stables and blacksmith and into the grounds beyond, before he took her on a tour around the battlements. The professor leaned against the wall, gazing out over the snow covered landscape beyond.

"You live in a beautiful part of the world, it's just a shame it's quite so cold."

As if for dramatic effect, she tucked his cloak around herself again.

"Beautiful yes, yet brutal. Faerghus is an unforgiving place."

He knew that all too well. Every year the common folk struggled to get their crops to grow and sometimes the castle grain stores dropped dramatically as he tried to keep all his subjects fed over a hard winter. In the relative peace across the continent it was easy enough to trade with the Alliance and the Empire, but even trade was growing thin as the roads became more dangerous. Dimitri's ascension to the throne could not come soon enough.

"Professor please forgive me, but I do not believe I ever caught your name at Garreg Mach."

He felt like such a fool having to ask her name after spending most of the day making polite conversation with her. She did not seem offended, or if she was she hid it well.

"My name is Byleth Eisner."

She stated simply, blue eyes still staring off into the distance and the mountains on the horizon. Eisner. He knew that name. He'd heard it somewhere before. If only he could pinpoint where...

It came to him abruptly.

Jeralt Eisner, the Blade Breaker, former Captain of the Knights of Seiros.

"Eisner as in Jeralt Eisner, the Blade Breaker?"

"Jeralt is my father, I travelled with him as a mercenary before coming to the monastery."

"Didn't know Jeralt had a daughter."

He stated, glancing down at her. He was sure he'd seen Jeralt in the what, twenty years or so since his daughter would have been born and he hadn't mentioned her once. Strange.

"Neither did a lot of people, apparently."

He barked out a short laugh at her dry sense of humour and noted that the slight upturn of her lips had returned. He imagined many people missed the subtley of her expressions, as small as they seemed to be.

She shivered again, rubbing her hands on the thick fur around her neck.

"Do you mind if we go inside? I'm really not cut out for this weather."

By the time they made their way into the keep, the fire in the great hall was roaring and most of her students were gathered around it, laughing and joking. One person was conspicuously absent, which wasn't exactly a surprise. Rodrigue supposed Felix would spend most of the day in his room or at the very least avoiding him.

Byleth moved to join her class, sitting on the floor beside them with his cloak tucked around her legs and beckoned him to join them. Sitting on the floor would play havoc with his old joints but he humoured her nonetheless, settling between the professor and the silver-haired boy he didn't recognise.

"I should probably introduce you to the rest of my class."

She murmured, almost to herself. She gestured to the boy beside him.

"This is Ashe, adoptive son of Lord Lonato."

The boy gave a small wave and dipped his head. What happened to Lonato was a terrible business but equally it was an unfortunate consequence of siding against the church. He offered the boy a smile and a quiet 'hello'.

"Ashe, this is Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Felix's father."

Her attention turned back to him.

"Of course, you know Sylvain, Ingrid and Dimitri and I presume you've also met Dedue?"

There was a question in her voice and he nodded, oddly satisfied that he had remembered the retainer's name.

"Next to Dedue is Annette, then Mercedes. That is Ferdinand von Aegir, son of Prime Minister von Aegir of the Empire. He and Dorothea-" she gestured to the dark-haired girl on the opposite side of the circle who was deep in conversation with Ingrid, "were originally in the Black Eagle class, but asked to be transferred to the Blue Lions."

Rodrigue did not find it hard to see why.

After a few minutes of idle chatter with the students and their teacher, his attendant informed him that their rooms were ready. He got to his feet, cursing the stiffness in his knees under his breath and offered Professor Byleth his hand. She took it and gracefully hoisted herself up.

"Jacques, I would be grateful if you could show the professor and her class to their rooms,"

He turned back to the professor.

"I will have some clothes brought up for you and the students, please let Jacques know if there is anything you need."

"My lady, if you would please follow me."

Jacques said with a bow, directing the professor toward the stairs. As Rodrigue made his way to the kitchen, he chuckled to himself as he heard her try to corral her students up to their rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this chapter to get so long. The next chapter will probably be at least partly from Byleth's perspective and there'll probably be a little bit of her perspective throughout the story but it'll be mostly be from Rodrigue's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all Byleth's perspective. Normal service will be resumed in the next one!

The room she was lead to by Jacques was much more ornate than her room in the dormitory at Garreg Mach. While Rodrigue had said that Castle Fraldarius didn't have the capacity of the monastery, Byleth imagined that if the rooms were smaller it just might do. The room was almost three times the size of her dorm room, the walls and ceilings covered in ornate wooden panelling and a grand stone fireplace set into the wall opposite the bed. Even the bed was elaborately carved, a large four poster affair with easily enough room for three people to lie abreast. Sleeping on her cot at the monastery would feel like slumming it after this, although anything was better than camping out in the woods with nothing but a bedroll. At the time it hadn't bothered her so much - it was what she was used to after all - but not waking up with an aching back and sore joints from the cold was something anyone could get used to.

Jacques excused himself once she had settled, the man advising her that one of the serving girls would be up shortly with a change of clothes and that her own could be washed if she so desired. Byleth thanked him, eager to change out of her bloodied, dirty clothes.

She pottered about the room while she waited, warming her hands in front of the fire. She had known Faerghus was cold - her students had always joked as much - but she hadn't expected it to be this cold. Whenever her father's work had brought her north to Faerghus they had only ever been as far as Fhirdiad and only in the summer months. She unfastened Rodrigue's cloak as the warmth began to permeate her bones, stroking the soft fur of its ruff before folding it neatly and placing it on one of the chairs set out in front of the fire. To her dismay, the bottom of the cape was covered in mud and damp from their journey. She simply hadn't thought - she was so much shorter than him it was no wonder it had dragged on the ground. A sense of guilt washed over her and Byleth promised herself that she would return it to him and apologise.

A knock at the door startled her. When she opened it, she was greeted by a buxom girl in her thirties with mousy brown hair and dark eyes. 

"Jacques said to bring you fresh clothes my lady." 

The woman stated, clearly slightly unsure as to whether she should enter the room or not. Noticing her discomfort, Byleth stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. The serving girl placed a pile of folded clothes at the foot of the bed. 

"Is there anything else you need my lady?" 

Byleth pondered her question for a second. If she was to change into clean clothes she would appreciate a bath. There was a large tin bathtub in one corner of the room, perhaps the girl could bring water and she could wash in it? 

"If it is not too much trouble, I would appreciate a bath." 

"Of course my lady, I'll fetch water at once." 

The woman bowed, scurrying backwards and out of the room. Her attitude took the young professor by surprise, did she think she was a noble? 

With the serving girl gone, Byleth dragged the tin bath from in front of the fire. She presumed the water would need to be heated in the room, and it made sense for her to move it now rather than wait for her attendant to return. 

Once the tub was in position, Byleth inspected the clothes brought for her approval. The girl had brought her an assortment of jumpers made from the softest wool she had ever felt, two pairs of trousers and various underclothes and smallclothes. The jumpers seemed a little looser than her usual choice of fit but they looked incredibly warm and much better suited to the bitter weather.

Byleth hurried to the door when someone gave a stilted knock on the ancient wood. When she opened it she was surprised to see not just the serving girl from earlier but four other girls, three of which carried pails of steaming water. They funnelled into the room, each pouring the contents of their pail into the tub while the final girl placed a variety of scented oils and soaps on the table. All of them quickly hurried out of the room again, leaving Byleth and the first serving girl alone. 

"You didn't need to move the tub, my lady." She said softly, moving to help Byleth unclasp her cloak and remove her gauntlets.

"It was no trouble."

The girl insisted on helping her undress before ushering her into the bathtub and if she was honest, Byleth was slightly uncomfortable with the attention. She had never been bothered by nudity - one had to get used to it living the life of a mercenary, there wasn't exactly much privacy when bathing - but this was different. Unsettling. The water was delightfully warm and soothed her worries somewhat, the girl pottering about her and pouring various tinctures into the bath. 

Byleth submerged herself for a moment, wetting her hair and enjoying the feeling of being completely enveloped by warmth. It made a wonderful change from the Faerghus cold which had seeped into her bones over the last few days on the road. When she re-emerged, the serving girl lathered her hair with a soap that smelled like lillies. She had to admit it was relaxing to have someone massage her scalp in such a way, but the other woman's attentiveness still made her uncomfortable. 

"What's your name?" 

She asked the dark-haired woman, trying to break the silence and make things slightly less awkward. 

"Marcelle, my lady." 

"And have you always lived in Fraldarius territory?" 

"I have my lady. I've been in service to the Duchy since I was eleven. My pa used to work in the stables."

Byleth considered her words for a second. Eleven seemed awfully young to start working in the castle, but then again she had been travelling with her father's band of mercenaries and doing odd jobs with them since she was far younger than that. 

"Do you enjoy your work?" 

"I do, my lady. It is hard sometimes, but it is worthwhile and good pay. The Duke is a good man and always kind to us."

Byleth hummed in acknowledgement. She felt the woman had more to say on the topic, but didn't pry further. Marcelle rinsed her hair with water left in one of the pails before beginning to scrub her arms so hard they began to sting. Byleth imagined her skin would be raw in the biting wind on their journey back to Garreg Mach but decided not to say anything; the woman seemed shy enough as it was.

"I have heard that some lords are not quite so kind to their servants." 

Marcelle murmured, keeping her eyes on the ground. Byleth had heard that as well. Some were not even kind to their children, if what she had been told about Bernadette's father was to be believed.

"I have heard that as well. I'm glad Rodrigue treats you well."

The woman gave her a strange look. Was it really so odd for her to refer to Rodrigue by his first name? Byleth had never really been one for remembering such customs and courtesies.

Soon enough Marcelle had finished preening and polishing her to within an inch of her life, she fetched a towel to dry her off with. Byleth changed into a pair of grey trousers and a black woollen jumper while Marcelle hovered nearby. The woman directed Byleth back toward the fire and into one of the chairs, brushing her hair until it dried almost pin straight. She then began pulling it into two elaborate braids on each side of her head, humming as she worked. 

"Forgive me Marcelle, this might seem like an odd question, but where are Rodrigue's chambers?"

That strange look was back again and Byleth felt an overwhelming need to explain herself.

"He let me borrow his cloak while we travelled. I would like to return it to him and apologise for getting it so dirty."

"I can have it washed and returned to him, my lady."

Marcelle offered. Byleth shook her head.

"I think it would be best if I apologise in person." 

The serving girl nodded before advising her that Rodrigue's chambers were on the floor above her.

When Marcelle finally presented her with a hand mirror Byleth hardly recognised herself. The four braids met at the back of her head and twisted into a bun and the oversized jumper was very different from her usual attire. She didn't think she'd ever looked so presentable, her hair was usually unkempt at the best of times.

"Thank you Marcelle, you've been most kind to me." 

The woman blushed, bowing before glancing toward the door. Byleth dismissed her, the girl collecting her dirty clothes and advising she would bring them back in the morning. 

Byleth leaned against the leaded window, noting the sun hanging low on the horizon, staining the sky in various shades of pink and vermilion. She should probably head downstairs, their meal would likely be served soon and she would hate to be late.


	4. Chapter 4

After asking the cooks to allow the professor's students access to the kitchen for their sweet making endeavour, Rodrigue retired to his sitting room. Although his day had panned out differently than expected, he still had business to attend to. While Byleth and her class were settling into their accomodation, it made sense for him to do some work. There was the upcoming trade conference next month to prepare for and a number of Faerghus lords that still needed convincing to attend.

The trade conference in Varley territory could go a long way to easing some of his worries about food stocks over the winter. Perhaps he could even persuade some of the other lords to keep the roads safe and protect the common folk and merchants. That would benefit all involved. The conference was set for the 20th day of the Ethereal Moon, perhaps he could visit the monastery on his way back and check in on Felix, Dimitri and the Professor.

As the sky began to darken, Rodrigue made his way to his chambers for a bath and change of clothes. From the smells rising from the kitchen, it wouldn't be long until dinner would be served. Once he was dressed, he headed back down to the great hall which had already been set for a banquet. A few of the students were already present, including Lonato's boy, Dimitri and Dedue. He made small talk with Ferdinand about the intricacies of running a territory and found the boy to be knowledgeable on the subject, if a little full of his own self importance. 

Soon the group was joined by Sylvain, Ingrid and Dorothea. From what they said, Annette and Mercedes were already in the kitchen preparing their sweets as they wanted them to be served after the meal. That left only Felix and Byleth to join them. 

Rodrigue had a feeling Felix would not emerge from his room tonight. He excused himself from the hall and headed upstairs. Rodrigue could hear movement inside as he approached which conspicuously stopped when he knocked on the door. No answer came. Rodrigue sighed, how had he failed his son so badly?

"Felix, food is going to be served soon if you're going to be joining us. If not, well, I'll make sure the cooks leave some aside for you." 

No response. Shaking his head, Rodrigue retreated back downstairs.

Dimitri was much more willing to spend time with him, the young prince waiting for him at foot of the stairs. He was a good kid, even though he still struggled with what happened four years ago Lambert would've been proud of him.

Dimitri, much like Felix, sung his professor's praises. She had been focusing on improving his sword and lance skills while also tutoring him on tactics as she felt it would be valuable when he ascended the throne. Rodrigue could see the sense in that, a monarch had to be well versed in the tactical side of battle as well as combat itself.

"Her skill really is second to none, if anyone can teach me to master a sword its-"

Dimitri's sentence trailed off, eyes drawn over Rodrigue's shoulder to the stairs. Curious, he turned to see what had captured the prince's attention so wholly. Descending the stairs was Byleth. She looked beautiful - not that she didn't usually - her hair neatly braided with just a few loose strands framing her face. She joined them with a dip of her head. 

"Being a noble is exhausting, I don't know how you deal with people waiting on you hand and foot."

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear sheepishly, fiddling with the hem of her jumper. She seemed uncomfortable, as if without her armour she was vulnerable.

As serving girls and cooks began to swarm the room, the table quickly filled with an assortment of dishes. It seemed one of the hunters had returned with a deer and one of the main events was venison braised in red wine. Ingrid was practically beside herself with excitement, pointing out the dishes she wanted to try to Dorothea as they passed.

When the cooks had taken their leave, Mercedes and Annette finally emerged from the kitchen, clothes covered in powdered sugar. Rodrigue made a mental note to apologise to Jacques and the cooks later. Rodrigue pulled out a chair for Byleth before taking his place at the head of the table. The chair opposite Byleth remained empty, much to Rodrigue's dismay.

"I take it Felix won't be joining us?"

The professor questioned softly, quiet enough that the students wouldn't hear. He shook his head.

"It seems that way. I've asked the cooks to keep some of his favourite dishes to one side so he won't go hungry." 

"That's good of you." 

She stated, before piling a number of potatoes and roasted vegetables onto her plate. She sampled the venison and a little bit of the fish course, as well as a hearty serving of pie. She caught him staring at her plate. 

"It just all looks so good. It would be rude not to try a bit of everything." 

The only other person he'd known to have such a distinct love of food was Ingrid, who had piled her own plate ridiculously high as the rest of the students looked on in awe. Sylvain was trying to steal potatoes from her plate, only to get jabbed in the arm with a fork. Rodrigue chuckled to himself. Some things would never change. 

"She really does love her food, doesn't she?"

"She always has. I used to catch her and Glenn sneaking into the kitchen together when they thought no one was paying attention." 

Goddess, those were the days. She must've noticed the faraway look in his eye because she reached for his hand and squeezed gently. 

When a serving girl passed by he asked for wine to be brought to the table and she soon returned with 4 bottles of red. Byleth shot him a questioning look and he shrugged in response. 

"What harm is there in letting them enjoy themselves while they have the chance?"

Soon they would be adults with responsibilities of their own and the time for play would be long gone.

As the remains of their meal were cleared away, Mercedes and Annette scurried off to collect their sweets. They came back with a tray of macarons and other delicacies, much to their classmates' delight. Mercedes really was a skilled baker and Rodrigue made a point of asking for her recipes and having the remaining trays sent down to the barracks for his men.

The night was slowly winding down; Ashe, Dedue and Dimitri excusing themselves from the table and calling it a night. The remaining students were getting rowdy, clearly deeply invested in some elaborate story from Dorothea's time as a songstress. It was probably time for him to call it a night as well. 

Byleth stifled a yawn and Rodrigue offered her his arm, it would only be polite to walk her back to her room. She took it with a smile, only to be met with a chorus of wolf whistles from her drunken students.

"Go Rodrigue! Didn't think you had it in you." 

Sylvain shouted with a wink, raising his glass to them. Byleth rolled her eyes.

"I expect you won't all be up too late tonight; anyone hungover tomorrow gets no sympathy." 

Rodrigue thought at least a couple of them would be feeling worse for wear in the morning.

"They're going to regret that wine tomorrow." 

Byleth chuckled and Rodrigue simply shrugged his shoulders in response. 

"It's a learning experience."

She exhaled sharply though her nose in amusement. 

"I suppose it is." 

They parted ways at her door, Rodrigue retiring to his own chambers. He poured himself a whiskey and took a sip, enjoying the warmth that the alcohol brought. He was midway through unbuttoning his shirt when there was a knock at the door. He presumed it was Jacques come to tell him Sylvain was making a nuisance of himself, but when he opened the door he was greeted by blue eyes and teal hair.

"I wanted to come apologise, I got your cloak all dirty. Marcelle said it could be washed but.." 

Her sentence trailed off, her gaze drawn to the plains of his chest before snapping back up. She offered him the cloak and he took it from her before stepping aside. 

"Nightcap?" 

She nodded and followed him inside, murmuring her thanks. He poured her a whiskey and handed it to her.

"There's really no need to apologise, you would be amazed at what trouble Glenn and Felix got into with it in their younger years." 

"I can imagine."

"They used to play at being knights near the stables. Sometimes it would come back covered in manure."

He laughed to himself, placing the folded garment on a chest of drawers. He would ask Jacques to have it cleaned tomorrow.

"I'm sorry," she began, "about Glenn, I mean." 

"Thank you. That means a lot."

The wound left by Glenn's death would never truly heal but the pain would fade with time. He wanted to tell her everything, tell her how he'd failed his sons, failed Lambert, but the words wouldn't come. He settled on the sofa opposite the fire and took another swig of his whiskey, if only to keep his hands busy.

She settled beside him, placing her hand on his arm. He appreciated the gesture, and the warmth of her beside his was comforting. He wanted to pull her closer, wanted to feel something that would chase the pain away, but knew it would be inappropriate. Instead, he placed his hand over her own.

"I'll never stop being proud of him." 

He would never stop feeling like he'd failed him, either. He should've tried harder to convince Lambert not to go to Duscur, although in his heart he still believed that what had happened had been orchestrated by someone looking to unsettle power in the Kingdom. If he had convinced Lambert not to go, would Glenn have died anyway? He shook the thought away, there was no sense in dwelling on such things now. He couldn't change the past.

Byleth stayed with him until she finished her drink before squeezing his arm and standing to leave. He followed her to the door, holding it open for her. She paused in the hallway, turning to face him.

"Thank you, for everything. I'll have the students ready to depart first thing." 

Rodrigue found that sleep came easily after she left, a combination of the alcohol and the days excitement wearing him out. He rose early, feeling well rested, and saw Byleth and the others off on their journey back to Garreg Mach. He promised himself that he would see her again.


	5. Chapter 5

The trade conference had gone about as well as could've been expected with Count Varley as host. While Counts Bergliez and Hevring had been more open to the idea of trading with the lords of the Kingdom and Alliance, Count Varley was obstructive and difficult, citing poor harvests across the Empire even when Count Bergliez contradicted him. Varley had been chosen as the location for the summit due to its central location but Rodrigue couldn't help but think it would've been more successful if it had been hosted by Count Hevring.

There had been some concessions, each of the lords pledging to keep the roads clear in their territories so merchants could travel safely, but all in all the summit was less successful than he had hoped. 

The weather stayed fair on the return journey and Rodrigue and his retinue made good progress on their way back around the Oghma Mountains, arriving at the monastery on the 24th day of the Ethereal Moon. The monastery was decorated with flowers and banners for the establishment day festival, students milling about the markets as he passed. 

He was greeted by the monastery's gatekeeper, a cheerful man who seemed swept up in the excitement himself. He advised that Rodrigue should seek the Archbishop's advisor Seteth who would see to it that the Duke and his men were afforded with accomodation. Rodrigue thanked him and went on his way. 

The Archbishop's advisor was a surly man with green hair who seemed displeased with his sudden arrival. Nonetheless, Rodrigue was given the keys to some rooms above the Knight's Hall. The rooms were basic but comfortable enough and he and his men quickly unpacked and settled in.

It seemed the whole monastery was in overdrive, everyone busy with various tasks they had to complete before the celebrations began and Rodrigue didn't get chance to see Felix, Dimitri or the professor until the night of the ball, much to his frustration.

The ball itself was a grand affair, grander than he remembered from when he was a student. Given the recent fears about security, Rodrigue and his men had been approached by Seteth to help patrol the grounds and ensure nothing untoward would interrupt the nights festivities alongside the faculty. Byleth had spotted him across the dancefloor and given him a small wave but was so mobbed by students that she wasn't able to come and say hello in person. It was evident which professor was the most popular, both Hanneman and Manuela chatting with faculty rather than their students, and it wasn't hard to see why. Byleth was as beautiful as always, all high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. She was kind, witty and thoughtful. Quiet, yes, and from what he had observed not comfortable in social situations, but she tried her hardest for her students' sake. 

Dimitri and Edelgard took to the floor with the various students that badgered them for a dance. Dimitri looked a vision of his father at the same age and Edelgard had matured into a confident young woman much different from the timid girl he met in Fhirdiad all those years ago. Byleth had so far avoided dancing, even though she was being hounded by students from her own house and the others. It was the Golden Deer's house leader - Claude, he gathered, from the murmur that spread through the crowd of students around him - that finally took the professor's hand and swept her into a waltz with a wink. Rodrigue felt a pang of something akin to jealousy watching them spin round the floor and wished he'd had the confidence to ask her to dance himself. 

As soon as the song finished, Byleth slunk away from Claude's grasp and back into the crowd, disappearing in the sea of bodies. Rodrigue spotted her slipping out a side door and in a moment of madness decided to follow. She slipped past the Knights Hall and across to the Cathedral before heading for the Goddess Tower. Rodrigue felt a twinge of something he couldn't name as she disappeared through the door and out of sight, wondering if he should turn back for fear of seeing her come to meet someone else. Such feelings were ridiculous - she was his son's teacher, young enough to be his daughter. As lovely as she was with him, there was no way she'd be interested in pursuing something with an old man like him, not when she could have her pick of anyone in the hall tonight. He'd seen the way Dimitri looked at her and how Sylvain always had to hide his disappointment when she shot down his crude attempts at flirting. He imagined many of the other students shared their affections for her. He tried to tell himself that he had only followed her to check she was alright after leaving so suddenly, even if deep down he knew it was only a half-truth. 

He made his way onto the balcony to find her leaning against the balustrade and staring out across the monastery grounds. She must've heard his footsteps and turned to face him, brow furrowed ever so slightly as if questioning who had followed her. When she spotted him her expression softened and she beckoned him to her. He obeyed as if under some sort of spell.

"Fancy seeing you here." She began, turning to look at him as he stared out across the chasm below. "I didn't even realise you were in Garreg Mach, you should've come and said hello."

"I arrived yesterday afternoon from the trade conference in Varley. I tried to catch you but it seems you are a busy woman."

She laughed gently.

"You could say that. Seteth has run me ragged with preparations for the ball and the students have certification exams coming up. I've hardly had a moment to myself. I thought tonight would be relaxing but it's been anything but. I needed some quiet, even if it is just for a little while."

He regarded her in the dim light, her face turned to the sky as if searching for something he couldn't see.

"There used to be a rumour about this place back when I was a student."

"Is that so?" 

She stated, turning to face him with her head cocked to one side.

"They said that if a man and a woman made a wish together here on the night of the ball, the Goddess would be sure to grant it. I'm not sure there's much truth in it, but I wonder if the rumour still persists after all this time." 

"I've heard mention of the Goddess Tower a few times this week so perhaps it has." She paused, as if thinking about something. "It's nice for the students to relax and let off some steam. It's like you said, they need time to be children before adulthood catches up with them."

He smiled, touched that she had paid so much attention to something he'd said in passing over a month earlier.

"What would you wish for? If the legend is true, that is." 

She pondered his question for a moment, gaze drawn back out across the monastery grounds. He could just about make out the silhouettes of students sneaking out of the hall together, including a particularly large figure who seemed to be heading for the dining hall. 

"Peace I suppose, however unlikely it may be. I have seen enough death in my lifetime, I don't want my students to live through the same." 

She spoke with a wisdom far beyond her years. Rodrigue supposed a former mercenary would have seen more death than most people could expect to, always off fighting other people's wars. It was a worthy oath, one that he could wish for as well.

"To peace, then." 

Her lips upturned in the ghost of a smile.

"To peace."

They spent a few minutes in silence together before Byleth shivered from the cold. He quirked an eyebrow at her; he could understand being cold in the bitter cold of northern Faerghus but the winters in Garreg Mach were mild.

"You know I don't like the cold." 

"Shall we head back, then? I imagine there's a lot of people wondering where you are." 

Byleth hummed in agreement, taking his arm when he offered it. The trek through the grounds seemed much shorter with Byleth on his arm and it felt like they parted far too soon. He wasn't sure he wanted to give her back to her students just yet. When they reached the hall, he held out his hand.

"Would you do me the honour of a dance?"

She smiled and took his hand, letting him whisk her through the crowd and back onto the dancefloor. The band were playing a slow waltz and they swayed and spun together across the floor, her hands on his shoulders while his held her waist. He could feel hundreds of eyes on them, but he only had eyes for her and the smile which caused her eyes to crease at the corners. They were not as practiced as some of the other dancers, occasionally stepping on each others toes or losing their rhythm, but each mistake was met with a laugh and neither of them seemed to mind.

He didn't want this moment to end, but eventually the song drew to a close. Both he and Byleth seemed reluctant to part from each other, and as she finally moved away he caught her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She flushed prettily, her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink as he released his grasp on her hand. Almost as soon as he did so she was swarmed by students eager to dance with her themselves. First in line was Ferdinand, closely followed by Sylvain.

What a strange night this had turned out to be. He headed for the drinks table, taking a glass of punch which he was sure wasn't supposed to be alcoholic but had the distinctive bite of liquor. He wondered which of the students had decided to spike it and what the casualties would be. Over the din of the band and the chatter of students, he didn't notice the footsteps fast approaching behind him.

"Is it your goal in life to embarrass me, old man?" 

His son spat and Rodrigue couldn't deny the hurt he felt from the boy's animosity.

"Of course not, Felix." 

He bit back, frustrated that his son felt the need to sully the mood once again.

"Why are you even here anyway? Don't you have knightly things to be doing?"

Rodrigue sighed, as much as he wanted to mend his relationship with Felix he didn't know how to go about it. Any time he tried to make amends he was met with criticism and pushed away.

"There was a trade conference in the Empire, I had to pass Garreg Mach on my way back and decided to stop by to see you and the others." 

Felix sneered, hand on his hip. 

"Pathetic."

The boy spat, before turning and storming back into the crowd. Rodrigue groaned and rubbed his temple, what was he going to do with him? He needed something stronger than this punch, finishing his glass and swiftly pouring another.

"Kids, huh?"

Came the voice beside him, Jeralt also in the process of getting a drink, looking not a day older than he had twenty years ago.

"Kids indeed. But no matter how frustrating they get, we love them anyway." 

The captain of the Knights of Seiros laughed heartily, turning to lean against the table and watch his daughter spin across the dancefloor with Sylvain.

"I remember the day she was born at if it were yesterday."

Rodrigue nodded.

"One minute you're cradling them in your arms and then you blink and they're adults." 

They shared a collective sigh, each taking a sip of their drink before Rodrigue spoke again. 

"She's a fine young woman, your daughter. All the students speak very highly of her, including Felix, which I assure you is high praise indeed."

The taller man turned to look at him, appraising him in a way that he found quite unsettling. It was clear where Byleth got her talent for staring people down.

"I wanted to keep her away from the Church and all its politics, thought it would keep her safe. But being here, seeing her with the brats, it's been good for her. She's happy here in a way she never was before."

Rodrigue shot him a questioning look but didn't say anything. The two stood by the drinks table a while longer, watching the students mill about and generally enjoy the revelry. When Jeralt broke the silence that had settled between them, it took Rodrigue by surprise.

"If anything happens to me, look after her. She doesn't smile like that for just anyone." 

With that, Jeralt took his drink and exited the hall, leaving Rodrigue to ponder his words. 

When the clock struck midnight, the Archbishop's advisor was quick to begin ushering students out of the hall and back toward their dorms, reminding them that they still had classes tomorrow and they were expected to attend.

Rodrigue slept soundly enough and joined the professor and her class for breakfast the following morning. It was clear that some students, both in the Blue Lion house and the others, were feeling a little worse for wear, one of which being Sylvain. The boy buried his head in his hands while Ingrid seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting him. Felix was trying to hide that he found it amusing and failing. Another student who seemed worse for wear was Ashe, who was lamenting to Mercedes and Annette that he didn't realise the punch was alcoholic until it was too late.

It was probably the most pleasant meal he'd had in Felix's company for a long time and Rodrigue delayed their departure just so he could stay a little longer. When they did finally leave, the weather seemed colder than before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter and might re-write it, I've got some stuff down for the next few chapters so hopefully I'll be happier with those.
> 
> Rating is being upped to mature, brief descriptions of violence ahead.

The next few months passed in a blur. Despite the promises made at the trade summit, the roads grew more treacherous by the day. It was a constant battle against bandits and outlaws and trade grew thinner and thinner. Rodrigue had meant to write to Felix but time just slipped through his fingers.

He didn't know about Edelgard's betrayal until it was too late. 

Felix had stumbled into the bailey battleworn and weary on a stolen horse. His son had never been much of a horseman, which made Rodrigue all the more worried. He would never choose to travel on horseback if he could help it. 

"Felix, my son! Are you alright? What happened?" 

He called to him, rushing across the courtyard toward him. There was no snarky remark, no venom, no rejection of his father's attention. Something was desperately wrong. 

"The Empire - _Edelgard_ \- attacked the monastery. We tried to hold them off but there were too many." 

There was a far off look in the boy's eyes, as if he were still back at the monastery and not safe back at home. 

"What of the others? Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid, the Professor?" 

Felix winced at the last name and Rodrigue's heart dropped. 

"The Boar has gone back to Fhirdiad. I travelled with Sylvain and Ingrid as far as I could, they're both safe. The professor..." 

He trailed off, taking a moment to compose himself. 

"She fell. They used dark magic to push her off a cliff. There was nothing we could do." 

He pulled his son into an embrace, ignoring his displeased grunt. Goddess, he was glad he was safe. He couldn't quite believe what he had heard. Why would Edelgard do such a thing, betray her step-brother and destabilise the entire continent? What good did she think that would do, other than causing thousands of unecessary deaths? He ground his teeth. 

"I'm so glad you're safe Felix." 

The news about the professor didn't feel real; she couldn't be dead, she wielded the Sword of the Creator for Goddess's sake. If Edelgard and her allies had killed her, what exactly were they up against? He needed to send a letter to the Margrave and Count Galatea at once and try to come up with a plan. His heart ached with the thought that Byleth was truly gone and he pulled his son closer. 

When news of Dimitri's imprisonment and execution came, he rushed to Fhirdiad. Felix refused to come to the Prince's aid, citing that they had subjects to protect that were more important than one man who'd lost his mind. While Rodrigue believed Dimitri was innocent, Felix said that the Dimitri he'd left at Garreg Mach would have killed anyone if he thought it would get him one step closer to Edelgard. Rodrigue hoped desperately that his son was exaggerating and left him behind to coordinate the resistance in his stead. 

Fhirdiad itself was a mess, refugees lined the streets and huddled together in corners for warmth. Cornelia had the means to help these people and yet she hid in the royal castle and did nothing. He and his small contingent of men were herded into one of the great halls and made to wait, and wait, and wait. Each time he asked to see the Prince's body, or for information so he could help arrange the funeral, Cornelia's men got evasive. 

Then they wouldn't let them leave.

He had to fight his way out and lost a third of his retinue along the way. He grabbed his destrier from the stables and left, the horse wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth as if it smelled the fear that permeated every corner of the city. 

Fhirdiad was lost. 

Months became years and the Kingdom fell into disarray. One by one, the Western Lords turned against their kin and swore fealty to the Empire. Rodrigue, Margrave Gautier and Count Galatea coordinated a resistance effort to help the East remain independent, for now at least. House Charon remained neutral, refusing to support either the Emperor or the rebellion. At least that gave them a buffer between the Empire's forces and their own.

The infighting started in the Alliance and Rodrigue began hearing reports of skirmishes between House Riegan and House Gloucester, the latter having declared for the Empire. There had never been much love lost between those two Houses, it was no surprise they were at each others throats again over something like this.

Before he knew it, five years had passed. The resistance was just about clinging on, but the refugees trying to escape the Empire had moved east in search of sanctuary. The Eastern Lords couldn't feed them all. They received some aid from House Riegan and the resistance-aligned Houses of the Alliance, but it would never be enough. Morale was failing.

Sylvain arrived part way through the Ethereal Moon, intent on making the pilgrimage to Garreg Mach for the Millennium Festival. They made a promise to the professor, he'd said. Felix was reluctant at first and Rodrigue tried to dissuade them from making such an unnecessary journey, but Sylvain was adamant that they needed to go - he had a feeling and he needed to know if it was right. 

The two boys left a few days later, heading south to Galatea to pick up Ingrid, before embarking to Garreg Mach. Rodrigue worried himself sick, terrified of what they were walking into by heading straight into enemy territory. He barely slept, barely ate. Then news came of a force gathering at Garreg Mach, supposedly led by Prince Dimitri and his professor. 

At first Rodrigue brushed off the rumours as Imperial counter-intelligence with the aim of drawing the resistance army out. But the rumours kept coming, along with sightings of the Knights of Seiros in the area surrounding the monastery. Finally, Felix's letter arrived, requesting reinforcements to assist the Kingdom army in assaulting Enbarr. The letter was unmistakably Felix, from the scrawled handwriting to the brevity with which he wrote. 

Rodrigue couldn't risk leaving the Eastern territories unguarded, not while the situation with Cornelia and her traitors was so precarious. When he wrote back, he arranged to meet his son's army in Ailell. The preparations began at once. 

When Rodrigue and his forces reached Ailell, he found the Kingdom army already embroiled in battle with House Rowe. He cursed under his breath, clearly there was an imperial spy within the forces stationed at Garreg Mach. If they won this battle they would need to thoroughly investigate who was feeding information to the Empire.

"For Faerghus!"

He shouted, the cry rising within his troops as they drew their weapons. He pushed his destrier forward and his men followed, their war cries echoing around the canyon until they became impossibly loud. As he drew closer to the battle he spotted what he could only assume was Dimitri, a hulking man with a blonde mop of hair tearing through Gwendal's men as if they were paper. He spied a flash of red hair and knew it was Sylvain, and a silver-haired sniper that could only be Lonato's boy.

The fighting was brutal. Why House Rowe's men were so willing to fight and die for their Empire masters Rodrigue couldn't understand. The Empire were pillaging their way across the Kingdom, displacing people from their homes and destroying their livelihoods. Rodrigue cut down countless men with his lance, his troops slowly making their way towards Dimitri and his army.

In all the commotion, he spied a petite figure in a gilded cape. Their back was to him and their high collar meant he couldn't see their hair, let alone their face. Yet something about the way the figure moved was familiar; graceful, elegant and precise in a way that those around them could never hope to be. 

Then Dimitri rushed forward, hacking his way through House Rowe's soldiers in a mad charge toward Gwendal. Rodrigue froze, as did the caped figure. Gwendal lowered his lance and pushed his horse forward, hoping to pierce one of the vulnerable spots between the plates of Dimitri's armour. The prince was off balance, unprepared, too wound up in his own mad assault to block it. It was then that the caped figure pulled a glowing sword from its scabbard which unfurled and whipped through the air as if it were no sword at all. 

He knew that sword, knew it's wielder, as impossible as it was. It was Byleth, he knew it in his heart, even if he couldn't see her face. His heart soared, triumphant, as if the battle had already been won. Her blade struck Gwendal in the shoulder, shearing off his pauldron and digging into the flesh underneath. The Gray Lion stalled, surprised by the attack, and Rodrigue took the opportunity to push his own horse through the crowd toward him. They could end this battle, once and for all.

The blow from his lance caught Gwendal unprepared, knocking him from his warhorse onto the rocky ground below. The man was winded but reached for his own lance, when Dimitri appeared and stabbed the man through the throat. It was an undignified end to a once-great knight, choking on his own blood while his fingers grasped feebly at the wound. Dimitri spat something about a death deserving of a traitor while Rodrigue looked on, speechless. 

This was not the bright young man he had left at Garreg Mach, this was a husk, driven by nothing but revenge and bloodlust. The boy barely seemed to recognise him, looking through him as if he were nothing but a ghost. 

With their commander dead, Gwendal's troops scattered and Dimitri was intent on chasing them down. Nothing Rodrigue said could convince him otherwise, much to his horror. It seemed Felix was right, Dimitri was not the boy he'd once known. It was only when Byleth approached him, placing a soft hand on his arm and murmuring to him as if he were a spooked horse, that he acquiesed. The prince resisted at first, growling something about needing to kill them all, but eventually returned to his troops and classmates.

It was only then that he took a good look at the woman he thought he'd lost half a decade ago. She still had the same attractive features and high cheekbones, but her eyes and hair were now a pale mint green where they had once been bright blue and teal. He gaped at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, and then smiled.

"It's good to see you, Byleth."

"It's good to see you too." 

She said softly, wiping down her sword. Neither of them addressed the elephant in the room, that she had disappeared for five years without a trace or that she had changed so drastically. Honestly, Rodrigue was just happy to see her alive and didn't want to spoil their reunion. They would have plenty of time to catch up once they were out of this Goddess-forsaken canyon.


	7. Chapter 7

The journey back to Garreg Mach was tense. Rodrigue rode at the head of the column beside Dimitri and pleaded with him to postpone the assault on Enbarr and take back Fhirdiad instead. If the prince charged at Enbarr with the same single focus he'd charged at Gwendal he would be dooming them all to their deaths.

"If you take back Fhirdiad the lords of the Kingdom will rally to you. We could consolidate our forces and assault the Empire with all of our troops. If we head to Enbarr half of my men will need to stay behind to defend the east against Cornelia." 

"Silence!" 

The boy snarled and Rodrigue felt bile rise in his throat. 

"The only thing that matters is putting that woman's head on a pike."

The prince refused to listen to reason, riding off ahead of the column so he didn't have to listen to Rodrigue or Gilbert's pleas to help his subjects before attacking the imperial capital. When Rodrigue glanced at Byleth, trying to weigh up her opinion on Dimitri's plan - or lack thereof - she was gripping the reigns so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Her lips were set into a hard line, eyes focused on the prince's back. When she finally met his gaze, she shook her head, expression grim. 

There wasn't much talk for the rest of their journey.

Once they arrived, he asked Seteth for keys to an empty room and found himself on the upper floor of the Knights Hall, much like 5 years earlier. He changed out of his travel clothes and into a linen undershirt and trousers before running to the training grounds.

He needed to work off his fury, the anger he felt about Dimitri's single-minded pursuit of revenge, about Edelgard pushing him into such a broken state of mind and sending the whole continent spiralling into chaos. Mostly he felt anger at himself. If he had taken better care of Dimitri, gone to Fhirdiad immediately and brought him back to Fraldarius, maybe things would be different. Maybe he wouldn't be so far gone.

He worked through his drills, starting on his right side before switching to his left. He repeated the manoeuvres, assaulting the training dummy with both the blade and the haft of his lance until he had worked up quite a sweat. 

On his seventh repetition someone cleared their throat behind him. He had been so focused on his drills that he hadn't even noticed them enter, the surprise almost causing him to drop his lance. Thankfully he caught it before it hit the ground, twirling it in his hand in an attempt to hide that he was caught off his guard.

When he turned, he found Byleth eyeing him from the colonnade.

He had no idea how long she had been watching him. She was leaning against one of the pillars as if she had been there a while, still in all her regalia. In the evening light, Rodrigue thought she looked otherworldly, skin and hair aglow. She pushed herself lazily off the stone and moved towards him.

"You move well," She began and Rodrigue was flattered by her assessment, he was certainly not as young or as agile as he once was. "Perhaps you can teach me how to properly wield a lance." 

She gestured towards him and for a moment he imagined she was talking about a _different_ sort of lance and felt the heat rising in his cheeks. If the blank expression on her face were to be believed, that was _not_ what she was talking about. Curse his mind for sliding into the gutter like that. She seemed to notice that he was flustered, light dancing in her eyes in a way that he could only place as amusement. 

"I doubt there's much I could teach that you don't already know."

She shrugged. 

"Lancework was never my strong suit. My father tried his best to teach me but I was always better with a sword."

She brushed past him, heading for the weapon rack. 

"Spar with me."

She called over her shoulder, grabbing a training lance from the rack. She spun the weapon in her hand in a way that made him think she was downplaying her own abilities. Granted he had never seen her wield a lance, but he doubted she was as unskilled as she let on, particularly as she had taught Dimitri much of what he knew. He watched her unclip the fastenings of her cape, folding it neatly and placing it on a bench before returning to the centre of the grounds.

Without the cape her outfit wasn't so different from what he remembered, with those patterned tights and shorts that were just tight enough to be incredibly distracting. Next she removed her circlet and Rodrigue noted that it wasn't so different from the one worn by the Archbishop's advisor, Seteth. He wondered what her role was at Garreg Mach now that the Archbishop was missing. She seemed to be leading the Church's army and the Kingdom army by extension and the surly green-haired man he had met at at the founding festival five years ago now seemed to serve as her advisor. 

She stood directly opposite him and after a moment's pause he nodded and they sprang into action. They circled each other, waiting for the best moment to strike. Byleth made the first move, feigning right before swinging left. He dodged backwards, narrowly avoiding getting clipped on the arm. He countered and she danced out of the way as if it were no effort at all. 

She was faster, more agile, but he was physically stronger and had more reach. Despite already having worked through a number of drills he wasn't tired enough to think she would have too much of an advantage, particularly as she had been fighting for far longer than he had in Ailell. 

She slipped closer again and although he blocked her first swing she used the momentum of her lance to strike a blow on his leg. The impact stung but he used her proximity against her to land a strike on her upper arm. She leapt back again, weighing up her next move and circling him like a predator stalking it's prey. 

When she launched herself at him again he was ready, dodging sideways and clipping her thigh with a flick of his lance. She was on him again, overwhelming him with her speed and constant stream of attacks. What she lacked in finesse she more than made up for in aggression, pushing him backwards across the arena with an onslaught of jabs and swings. His own attacks were more calculated, using his reach to his advantage to keep her at bay. 

When she rushed him, he was unable to fend her off. She jabbed the lance into the back of his knee, causing it to buckle beneath the pressure. He grunted, trying to bring his own lance up to block the second strike which took his legs out from under him. She followed him down, straddling his waist and pressing her lance lightly against his throat as if to cement her victory over him. Her proximity was incredibly arousing as was the intensity of her gaze, fixing him in place beneath her. Goddess, she would be the death of him.

She released her grip on the lance at his throat and he saw his opportunity. He shifted his weight beneath her, managing to slip the shaft of his own lance between them and using it to flip her onto her back and reverse their positions. He used the weapon to push her arms upwards, pressing it against her wrists to capture them above her head and prevent her from pulling a similar stunt of her own.

She didn't struggle against his grip, simply lying there gazing up at him from beneath her lashes. He could feel the heat of her beneath him, the warmth of her skin against his hands. She was practically aflame, cheeks flushed, even though he could've sworn she wasn't as exerted as her flustered state would suggest. Her lips were slightly parted and he could feel the magnetic pull she had on him, urging him to lean down and capture her lips with his own. 

She was so close, so very close, and it would be so easy to kiss her, to give in to the desire he'd felt for her since they met five years earlier, but then the realisation of what he was doing and where they were hit him like a stray arrow.

He was being ridiculous, thinking that this woman would ever want him the way he had wanted her. He untangled himself from her and shuffled backwards as if he'd been burned.

He was painfully aware of his hardness straining against the linen of his trousers and hoped desperately that she hadn't felt his arousal as she sat astride him. How embarrassing. Thankfully his tunic was long enough to save him from any further humiliation and he retreated to put his lance back in the weapon rack if only to put some distance between them and give himself time to calm down. 

When he turned to face her she had picked herself up off the ground and was watching him contemplatively. She moved closer, intent on putting her own lance away and he stepped back to give her space. She eyed him for a moment, securing the lance back in place before turning to face him.

"I knew you had a thing or two to teach me."

"Hardly, you almost had me at the end."

She laughed, shooting him a look he couldn't read.

"Yes I did." 

She retrieved her cape from the bench before heading for the door.

"Same time tomorrow?" 

She called and he froze.

"Sure." 

He replied, inwardly cringing at his inability to say no to her. 

Once she'd left and he was confident she wasn't going there herself, Rodrigue headed to the bathhouse to wash off the day's sweat and think of a suitable excuse to avoid her for the foreseeable future else he completely humiliate himself.


	8. Chapter 8

After the incident with Byleth in the training grounds Rodrigue spent the next few days avoiding her, terribly embarrassed by his actions. He was pining after his son's professor like a lovestruck teenager when he should've been concentrating on the war effort. He needed to focus.

No matter how hard he tried to avoid her Byleth seemed to be seeking him out, or perhaps the stars aligned just to punish him. She bumped into him in the hall and invited him to join her for tea. He stumbled over an apology as to why he couldn't only for her to extend an open offer to join her whenever he had chance. 

The idea was enticing, having her all to himself for a few short moments instead of being constantly pestered or interrupted by her old class or members of the Church. But he soon remembered how close he had come to acting in a manner that was wildly inappropriate and decided it was better if he continued to avoid her.

Instead, he found himself observing her from a distance, happy just to watch how she interacted with her students and how much joy she brought to them all. 

The next night he couldn't settle, no matter how much he tossed and turned sleep would not come. He supposed a walk in the crisp night air would clear his head and dressed himself in casual linens before heading out. He wandered past the stables and around the pond before heading toward the cathedral via the greenhouse and dormitories. He saw barely a soul except for those on guard duty, acknowledging them with a nod and going on his way. When he crossed the bridge to the cathedral he found the doors already open. Perhaps someone had come to pray for them to have an easy journey through Gloucester territory. 

When he quietly slipped inside, the sight before him caused him to stop in his tracks. Illuminated in the dim moonlight he spied Dimitri at his usual post with the professor beside him.

"Please Dimitri," she begged, "You must sleep, you need to keep up your strength for the coming battle."

She grasped the boy's hand in her own, trying to coax him away from his vigil in the shadow of the ruined alter. She tried to tug him in the direction of the door but he stood fast, staring at the pile of rubble as if she were nothing but a ghost. She dropped his hand, her attempt to move him failed.

"At the very least you need to eat." 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a napkin, pressing it into the prince's hand and folding his fingers around it. 

"Eat."

She commanded and the boy growled something in response that Rodrigue couldn't quite hear. Whatever was said caused the professor to flinch away before the prince turned on his heel and stalked out into the night without as much as an acknowledgment to either of them as he passed. 

Byleth's legs folded beneath her and she sat upon the cold ground, staring up at the cloudless sky through the fractured roof. That magnetic pull was back and before he knew what he was doing Rodrigue was crossing the distance towards her. She glanced over her shoulder but made no attempt to greet him. When he finally reached her he squeezed her shoulder gently.

For a moment she didn't move, didn't speak, before she turned to look at him with those doleful green eyes and his breath caught in his throat. 

"I tried." 

She whispered, wrapping her coat around her legs and setting her chin on her knees. 

"I know."

He murmured in response before settling down beside her. He was at a loss for what to do to snap Dimitri out of his current state of mind where he saw spectres around every corner. He was failing Lambert, failing his sons, failing everyone who relied upon him.

"What are you doing here so late?" 

She asked, tilting her head so she could look at him.

"I couldn't sleep, thought a walk of the grounds would clear my head." 

She hummed in acknowledgement and then fell silent, turning her gaze back towards the pile of rubble before them. 

The silence quickly became deafening and he found himself grasping for words to fill it with. 

"You know, even though it's in ruins, in some strange way this place never truly changes, does it?" 

She tilted her head to look at him again, a quizzical look on her features.

"The memories of studying here when I was younger always come flooding back whenever I return." 

"With Lambert?" 

She queried softly and he smiled, she had a good memory. 

"Indeed, we used to sneak out of classes almost every day. It's probably a good thing that Felix and Dimitri didn't inherit that from us or they'd cause you endless trouble." 

That made her chuckle.

"They cause me enough trouble as it is." 

He huffed a laugh of his own, thinking back to those days when he and Lambert would sneak out of the monastery and into the town and how many times they ended up in lectures hungover. Their professors must have thought they were a menace. At least Felix had experienced life at Garreg Mach and seemed to have taken as much enjoyment from it as could be expected. That wasn't something Glenn ever had the opportunity to experience.

"I keep thinking about Glenn," he began, unsure why he was pouring all his worries out to her again. Something about her just made him feel comfortable, as if she wouldn't judge him for his past mistakes. "He was quite gifted. He was appointed as a knight at just 15. I can still vividly remember Lambert granting him his sword - he was ecstatic." 

Just the thought of his son's face that day made him smile.

"Glenn was so proud to be a knight, he thought it the highest honour in the land to serve his King. After Duscur... I said something horrible to Felix. He's hated me ever since and frankly, I don't blame him." 

Felix was too young to understand his brother's feelings about duty and knighthood at the time. All he knew was that being a knight and serving his King had got his brother killed. Rodrigue had meant to comfort him, telling the boy that Glenn had died like a true knight, but completely misread his son's feelings and grief. He doubted Felix would ever forgive him for it.

"No matter how much we grieve, the dead will never return to us. No magic in the world can bring them back. That's why their memory clings to the living like a curse. The more they were loved, the tighter their hold and the more suffering they cause... Their hold on Dimitri is stronger than I ever anticipated."

The melancholy was plain to see on her face and he wondered who she was thinking of, who she had lost.

"I fear I am not strong enough to scold him for his foolishness, but as adults it is our responsibility to scold him and help him find his way again." 

"Together, then?" 

She asked softly. He smiled.

"Together."

He sighed, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his chin on them.

"I come off as so self-important, but really... I'm just a failure of a man." 

She shifted beside him, reaching for him and cupping his face in her hands. Goddess, her skin was so impossibly soft.

"Rodrigue," she implored him to look at her, voice thick with emotion. "You have never been a failure." 

He didn't believe her.

"Dimitri may be in a bad place now but think where he would've been without you. You helped him become a wonderful young man, helped him recover after Duscur while working through your own grief. That young man is still in there, I promise you that. You raised two wonderful sons of your own. You've held the Kingdom together for over 5 years against all odds and may just help us turn the tide in this war. I could go on."

She paused, stroking his face for a moment before withdrawing her hand. He felt the loss of her touch acutely.

"You made a mistake with Felix. Mistakes can be fixed. That doesn't make you a failure." 

He wasn't so sure. Felix had always been stubborn, opinionated, and felt his emotions incredibly strongly. His son would not forgive easily, if at all.

"Thank you. That... That means a lot." 

Her expression softened and she turned her face back to the sky. The silence that fell between them now was much more comfortable but Rodrigue soon found his thoughts drifting back to this cursed war, their losses and the last five years.

"So much for our wish for peace." 

He grumbled, almost to himself. Honestly, back in the Goddess Tower he really thought a true and lasting peace was almost within their grasp. The three future rulers of their respective territories at the Academy together and on all accounts on good terms - it had brought him hope that the previous generation's animosity could be washed away and a good and peaceful world ushered in. All could have prospered. And yet here they were, in the midst of a war, knee deep in blood and nowhere close to victory. 

"I still believe," She murmured in response, "that one day there will be peace again. I just hope we're on the winning side when it arrives." 

She rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh and his heart ached from the intimacy of such a gesture. They sat there silently together, her leaning against him. Eventually he couldn't bear it any longer and put his arm around her. She hummed in satisfaction beside him and shuffled closer. Her warmth was intoxicating and Rodrigue found that he didn't ever want to move. He closed his eyes to just enjoy this quiet moment, a sweet reprieve from the chaos that came with daybreak.

A dreamless sleep took him quickly. He was only woken by Byleth gently shaking his thigh. 

"Rodrigue." 

She murmured, gently coaxing him from his slumber. His neck was stiff from resting his head against hers, his legs aching from being crossed on the cold stone floor for so long. He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face as he came to his senses. 

"My apologies."

She didn't seem to mind that he had fallen asleep on her but apologising was the polite thing to do. Who knew how long he had trapped her there for fear of waking him?

"Don't apologise," she began, "I didn't want to wake you but I also didn't want you to catch a cold."

She tugged at the thin material of his trousers and he agreed that he was beginning to feel the night's chill. 

"It's late." 

She stated bluntly, gaze turned to the sky again as she tried to estimate the time. 

"Let me walk you back."

He offered and she accepted with a nod. She took his arm and they walked the short distance across the bridge and back toward the dormitories. 

When they reached her room she stretched up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping from his grasp and unlocking her door.

"Goodnight Rodrigue." 

She called over her shoulder before shutting the door and leaving him standing dumbfounded on the path outside. 

"Hey there Rodrigue, you sly old dog. Got something to tell me?" 

Sylvain. Of course it was. Who else would be sneaking back to their room at this time of night? The boy slung his arm around Rodrigue's shoulder nonchalantly while eyeing Byleth's door with a smirk.

"No, Sylvain, nothing at all."

He wondered what Sylvain thought was going on, did he think he and the professor were courting? He could feel his face reddening at the thought.

"Alright, alright, keep your secrets then." 

The red-head winked, clapping him on the shoulder before making a break for the stairs and the upper floor of the dormitory. He would never hear the end of this.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Canonical character death 
> 
> Also minor spoilers for Azure Moon chapter 16

They were victorious at Myrddin, but at what cost?

Byleth and her students mourned for their old friend, the son of Count Gloucester, who refused to join them even when the former professor had begged him to stand down. He had a duty to his House and to his father he had said, before lowering his lance and charging at her. She raised that monstrous glowing sword with tears in her eyes and felled him from his horse. Byleth held him in her arms as he died, trying her best to numb the pain with what white magic she knew and wishing that things could be different. 

Annette balled her eyes out at the loss of their former classmate and so Byleth held her too, still covered in the blood of their fallen friend. Mercedes joined them too and Ashe soon after, huddling together in their sorrow. When Rodrigue met Byleth's gaze he could tell she was heartbroken. Unfortunately this was the reality of war. 

In all their battles thus far they had never come face to face with someone they knew - everything was abstract, fighting Imperial generals and soldiers that were as nameless as they were faceless. This was different and the shift in atmosphere could be felt throughout their ranks. Even those who hadn't known Lorenz lamented, himself included.

Byleth organised a burial for the boy and all of her former class attended, spare one. When she asked Dimitri to join them to say goodbye, he growled something about this being the consequences of siding with Edelgard, callous and unnecessarily harsh in his decline. The professor flinched away from him as if she had been struck and vanished to be with her class. Rodrigue wanted to shake the young prince, to snap him out of this mist that clouded his judgment but feared it would only make things worse. It had felt like they were making progress, the boy listening to reason more often than not and now he had slipped straight back into oblivion. Lorenz's death was clearly affecting him in its own way.

While he and Gilbert had a debriefing with Dimitri later in the afternoon, one of their soldiers brought a girl before them who begged to join them to avenge her brother. Rodrigue told her that the war camp was no place for a civilian and tried to usher her home, but Dimitri overruled him as he had done so many times before.

"Do as you please." 

He spat and left to glare down at the small group of former students and his professor that mourned for Lorenz on the river bank, unwilling or unable to discuss their next moves any further.

The girl became something of a camp follower, hanging around on the outskirts of their makeshift barracks as if unsure of what to do with herself. Rodrigue was still uncomfortable with the idea of taking a civilian into battle but he was loath to go against Dimitri's wishes, misguided as they may be. Byleth, too, seemed unhappy with the prince's decision and tried to get him to reconsider when she returned to the bridge. She too was unsuccessful.

There was a sombre air on the bridge that night. The students picked at their food and made little conversation over dinner and Byleth simply pushed her food around her plate as if trying to disguise the fact that she couldn't eat. One by one her students excused themselves and retired to their tents, until only Rodrigue, Byleth and Annette remained. Annette couldn't keep her tears at bay for long and soon Byleth had her arm around the girl while she cried on her shoulder. Not long before they had departed the little redhead had expressed her apprehension about running into their former classmates on the battlefield and now her worst fears had been realised.

Eventually Annette cried herself to sleep, exhausted by the day's events, and Rodrigue watched as Byleth cradled her in her arms and carried her to her tent. When the former mercenary returned, she sat back on the bench and stared into the flames of their campfire. She made no effort to move as the moon slowly tracked it's way across the sky, the dark circles under her eyes betraying the tiredness she felt.

"You should get some rest."

He said softly from across the fire. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he also wanted to give her the space to grieve. 

"I can't."

She choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

"Every time I close my eyes I see his face. He was so scared, so confused and I..."

She bit back a sob, rubbing her eyes as if trying to force the tears away.

"I did that to him." 

He knew the look she spoke of, he had seen it more times then he could count. He had been fortunate enough that he had never seen that look on the face of someone he had considered a friend. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she must feel. 

"He gave you no choice." 

He murmured, hoping to reassure her that there was nothing she could've done to change what had transpired. 

"I'm just glad it didn't have to be one of the students. They don't need to go through that." 

She whispered, before finally picking herself up off the bench and heading for her tent with a quiet 'goodnight'. She didn't deserve to go through that either; no one should have to kill their own friends, yet another reason they needed to end this senseless war before the casualties became too great. He watched her go before retiring himself.

Byleth didn't look rested in the morning, the dark circles under her eyes still prominent and her eyes reddened and bloodshot. He wondered if sleep had ever come to her. 

The journey back to Garreg Mach was quiet, most of the students looking just as tried and forlorn as Byleth did. Felix looked angry, bristling for a fight, but he had never dealt with grief well. Rodrigue decided against checking in on his son for fear that he would once again make things worse. Dimitri looked no less tired than usual, riding ahead of the column yet again, but he was already haunted by the dead. What was one more death in the mind of such a troubled boy? 

He needed to come up with a plan, anything at all to make Dimitri see sense and come back to himself. Everything Rodrigue, Byleth or his classmates had tried thus far had failed. Mercedes and Annette had tried baking him sweets but he refused to even take a bite; Rodrigue didn't think that too unusual given he had lost his sense of taste after Duscur. Sylvain had invited the prince to spar with him only to be told that fighting without the risk of death was no fight at all. Even faithful Dedue, who had returned to them on the bridge, seemed troubled by the Prince's demeanour, although he had said it himself that he was resigned to dying in Dimitri's service. Rodrigue wondered if he had expected that he might throw his life away for something so reckless as Dimitri's pursuit of revenge. What a waste it would be to lose such an excellent young man to such petty thing.

When they reached Garreg Mach, Byleth retreated to her quarters and didn't emerge until the following day. Rodrigue met with Seteth on their arrival and together they decided it would be best to postpone the next war council, if only for a couple of days, to give everyone the chance to grieve.

Normality began to return on their second day at Garreg Mach. The students were still sombre but their moods had brightened somewhat and Byleth finally re-emerged from her room. She took breakfast with Ferdinand, Sylvain and Dorothea, Sylvain's jokes seeming to bring her some joy. After lunch, she trained with Felix and spent an hour in the greenhouse with Dedue. She was trying to keep herself busy, Rodrigue supposed. Anything to keep her mind off what had happened at Myrddin.

That evening everyone gathered in the dining hall to eat together, the cooks putting on a feast in an attempt to lift everyone's spirits. Seteth had even agreed to them taking wine out of the monastery's underground stores for the occasion. It seemed to work to some degree, most of the students laughing and joking and chatting together. Even Byleth seemed to brighten, talking with Ashe and Raphael about their siblings and how she would love to meet them one day.

As the night drew to a close, Ferdinand took to his feet and tapped his silverware against his glass to get everyone's attention. 

"I'd like to propose a toast," he began, glancing around the table at his comrades. "To Lorenz." 

The toast echoed across the room, glasses raised in memory of their friend. The melancholy was back in Byleth's eyes again and when he finally excused himself from the table she swiftly followed. 

"Can I walk with you?" 

She asked softly and he nodded, deciding he would happily spend a little time strolling through the gardens if it would bring her some peace. When they reached the gazebo she paused, staring at the structure before closing her eyes and inhaling.

"Lorenz liked to take his tea here. Every day at 4pm, always with someone different."

She had a far off look in her eye, as if she was picturing the heir to House Gloucester sat right in front of them.

"Bergamot was his favourite."

He was touched that she could remember such little things about her students even after so much time had passed. He took her hand in his own and squeezed in an attempt to comfort her. She intertwined her fingers with his and eventually seemed content enough to move in the direction of the dormitory.

When they reached her room she seemed reluctant to part from him, unlocking the door slowly and stepping inside. She lingered in the doorway, fingers drawing nervous patterns on the wood.

"Will you stay?" She asked quietly, gaze fixed firmly on his shoes. "I don't really want to be alone right now." 

He agreed. He could never deny her, not when she needed company so badly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: We are crossing the Rubicon, smut ahead
> 
> This is my first ever smut, please be kind! 
> 
> If smut isn't your kind of thing, it's fairly obvious where it's starting and you can skip it if needs be :)

When he followed her inside, he hadn't expected her room to be so sparse. As the leader of the resistance armies, he had expected at least some comforts but her room was almost bare. She had a bed, a dresser and a desk, as well as a some drawers and a small table and chairs, but nothing that really distinguished it as _hers_.

She seemed nervous, pottering about gathering a teapot and cups from her desk and tidying away stray papers into a drawer. 

"Tea?" She offered, searching through her dresser. "I think I'm going to have bergamot. For Lorenz. But I have a few different blends so you can have whatever you like."

He shook his head, still hovering near the door as if he daren't move any closer. It seemed so invasive being in her private sanctum with her, alone. 

"Bergamot is fine." 

He reassured her, watching as she pulled a small glass jar from the drawer and set it on the table. She gestured for him to join her and he did so, settling in a chair and taking off his gloves. 

"Oh, excuse me for a moment, I need to get water." 

She scooped the teapot up and quickly exited the room, disappearing out of sight as the door swung shut behind her. She wasn't gone long, but the minutes seemed to drag by without her. He spent the time alone fiddling with the hem of his coat and glancing around the room in search of anything that made it hers.

When he looked closer there were a few small items which must have had sentimental value to her hiding on various surfaces; a lance which he presumed belonged to her father, a small banner bearing the emblem of the Blue Lion house and a small wooden box perched on her dresser.

Soon enough Byleth returned, pushing the door open with her foot and sliding inside with both the teapot and a small jug. She placed both on the table and settled in the chair opposite him. He watched her little ritual, scooping three precise teaspoons of tea leaves into the pot before placing each cup on its own saucer and pushing one towards him.

"I always take milk with bergamot tea," she began, grabbing the small jug and pouring some into her cup. "I find it too strong otherwise." 

She lifted the lid from the teapot to stir it, before leaving it to steep a little longer.

"Many of the teas the students drink are too strong for me, I'd never taken tea like this until I came to the monastery. I had to learn so many things when I first became a professor here." 

He supposed that made sense, there wasn't much room for afternoon tea or airs and graces in the life of a mercenary. 

"I would never have guessed." 

He stated simply, gesturing at the tea set laid out neatly before him. 

"You have Ferdinand to thank for this, he is something of a tea aficionado. He spent many hours teaching me how to pour properly and how long to brew different blends." 

She reached for the pot and began to pour the amber liquid into his cup. The smell was soothing, calming his nerves. 

"I think he just enjoyed having someone to share this passion with, but I am grateful for his tutelage." 

The tea itself was delicious, smooth and expertly brewed. Just like everything else she did, it was made with precision.

"I will have to thank him, he's taught you to make a perfect cup of tea." 

He thought he saw her blush, her gaze dropping to her cup before meeting his again.

"My personal favourite is Pine Needle tea, it is a staple in Fraldarius. It reminds me of home."

"Duly noted. I'll ensure I have some for next time."

She teased and Rodrigue felt a warmth at the idea of sharing tea with her again. Even if he had spent the last few weeks avoiding this very scenario, he would enjoy that very much.

Her expression fell not soon after and his brow furrowed in concern.

"Byleth," he began, "What troubles you?"

She shifted in her chair, clearly uncomfortable.

"The future, the assault on Enbarr. Everything about this war." She paused, eyes focused on a point just over his shoulder. "I don't want to have to face any more students in battle and yet every step towards Enbarr makes that even more inevitable."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his.

"Maybe there's another way. Do you think any of the former students could be swayed to our cause?"

She considered his words for a moment, resting her chin on her free hand and leaning into it as she thought.

"I'm not sure. Linhardt perhaps, maybe Bernadetta, they were never fans of fighting. Petra has been a hostage of the Empire for years and always wanted to do what was best for her country, perhaps if she thought Brigid would have a better future under Dimitri than Edelgard she would join us. Given Dimitri's current mental state I think that is... Unlikely." 

"What about the others?" 

"Hubert? Never. He is blindly loyal to Edelgard. Caspar, I'm not so sure. He and Edelgard didn't always see eye to eye but equally he always wanted to prove himself to his father."

She sighed, shaking her head. 

"I daren't hold out much hope."

They made smalltalk for much of the rest of the evening, Byleth told him some stories from her life as a mercenary and Rodrigue recounted tales of the mischief that he and Lambert got into while at the Academy, if only to try and make her smile and take her mind off the war for just a few short hours. She found the story about them accidentally setting the kitchen on fire on particularly entertaining.

"I didn't realise quite how easy it was to start an oil fire, our professor was furious as I'm sure you can imagine."

She chuckled, eyes alight with a spark that he remembered seeing back in the castle all those years ago. 

"Annette has had more than her fair share of near misses and one time Mercedes tried to fry the herbs we use for smoke bombs and we had to evacuate the dining hall.." She trailed off, laughing softly to herself. "I always make sure to pair them with either Ashe or Dedue now whenever they're on kitchen duty. Just in case." 

It was his turn to laugh now, it seemed so strange to him that the two young woman could make such wonderful sweets but be so disastrous at any other type of cooking.

His gaze flickered to the small window above her desk and the sky beyond stained in the deep blues and pinks of sundown.

"Forgive me, I've kept you far too long. I should let you get some rest."

He couldn't quite read the expression that danced across her features but she nodded and began stacking the cups on the table.

When he stood to leave she followed him to the door.

"Thank you," she murmured, "for keeping me company." 

"It's been a pleasure." 

He stated warmly, finding the courage to lean down and press a kiss to her cheek just as she had done a few days earlier. She turned her head just enough to brush her lips against his own and he froze, his mind stumbling over itself as he tried to comprehend what was happening. She kissed him again and he remained frozen for a second before melting against her and burying his hand in her hair. 

After a moment he broke the kiss, acutely aware of just how close she was and exactly where they were. 

"We shouldn't." 

He murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. He didn't want her to think he was taking advantage of her when she was still grieving and that he would give her the space she needed to mend her heart after her student's death if that was what she needed. There was also the war to win, could either of them afford to be so distracted?

She leaned back ever so slightly, staring up at him with those unearthly green eyes. 

"We should." 

She countered, reaching up to stroke his face.

"If I were to die tomorrow I would regret not spending these precious moments with you." 

That was enough to break his resolve, to make him believe that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He reached behind himself, fumbling for the door handle and turning the lock while pressing another kiss to her lips. Her tongue danced against his mouth, seeking access, and he opened himself to her.

She kissed him desperately, as if he were the very air she breathed. He made an unschooled noise in the back of his throat, half growl half moan, taken aback by the passion with which she approached him. He was lost at sea, lost in her, as they stumbled across her room. He could barely keep his hands off her, palms roaming down her back to grab her ass as hers caressed his chest. In their haste they bumped into her chest of drawers with a thud and she laughed lightly against his lips. The sound made his heart sing, it was the happiest she had seemed since they had returned from Myrddin.

He quickly discarded his cloak over the back of one of her chairs and she shed her own, throwing it haphazardly onto her dresser. 

Just as their lips met again there was a knock on the door and Rodrigue cursed himself for being so clumsy. 

"Professor?" Came the voice - Dedue, it seemed. Of course, his room was right next door and he almost always retired early. "I heard a bang, are you alright? Should I call Professor Manuela?" 

Rodrigue smirked against her lips, Byleth's deft fingers making quick work of the buttons on his coat. He kissed his way along her jaw to her ear, brushing the lobe with his teeth. She drew a sharp intake of breath followed by a shaky exhale.

"I'm fine, Dedue. Really." She replied, voice as even as she could muster. "I tripped and had to catch myself on my dresser is all." 

"Liar." 

He growled into her ear and she squirmed, turning her head to capture his lips again. He waited until he heard Dedue's door close behind him before hoisting her onto the dresser. She wrapped her legs around him, pushing his coat from his shoulders and sliding her hands under his shirt. He shed his coat and pulled his shirt over his head, revelling in the way she bit her lip as her gaze swept across his chest. 

She was distinctly more clothed than he was, much to his dismay. Her dextrous fingers were already toying with the fastenings of his trousers but he gently pried her hands away to focus on her. She reached up to remove the pendant she wore around her neck while he grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it over her head. 

She kicked off her boots and expertly unwound the bindings covering her breasts. Now it was his turn to stare. She was beautiful and his need for her was pressing hot and insistent against his underclothes. He grabbed the waistband of her shorts, tugging gently, and she lifted her hips off the dresser to allow him to slip them down. He took her tights with them, never more glad that she didn't always wear her poleyn around the monastery. 

At last she was bare before him and he bit back a groan at the sight of her, all lithe muscle and a sinfully small waist. She slipped off the dresser, impatiently tugging at his trousers and leaning up to press kisses along his jaw. He kicked off his own boots, shedding his trousers and pulling her against him. 

She pushed him backwards toward the bed, and while he wanted this, wanted her so much, he was nervous. How long had it been? Too long by any count.

Before he knew it, he was on the bed and she was astride him, kissing him fervently, as if this was just a dream and to stop would mean she would wake. 

Goddess, he didn't deserve such worship. She kissed her way down the column of his throat and then lower across the flat planes of his stomach. She paused her descent to toy with a sensitive spot at his hipbone, seeming to enjoy the way he reacted. Lower still she went, teasingly close to where he wanted her, his back arching off the bed as he sought the warmth of her mouth.

He was not prepared for her to take all of his length in her mouth, the head pressing against the apex of her throat. The strangled noise he made clearly amused her, her laughter causing her throat to constrict around him in a way that was almost too much. She released him slowly, tongue flat against the underside of his cock as she did so, before sliding it languorously over the head. 

She continued her affections until a hand wound it's way into those mint green tresses, prying her gently off his cock and guiding her back to his lips. She made a sound of protest at his interruption but he silenced it with a kiss, hot and demanding. 

"If you carry on like that this will be over far too soon." 

He growled into her ear, nipping at the lobe. She moaned softly and he longed to draw that sound from her again.

In one swift motion he reversed their positions, flipping her onto her back. He admired her for a moment, the soft swell of her breasts and the svelte curve of her waist, before kissing her neck, her collarbone, her chest. He laved his attention on her breasts as she gasped and wriggled beneath him, fingers pulling gently at his hair. 

She was so responsive to every touch, every sound and he _loved _it.__

__He continued his descent, lower and lower still. He avoided her core completely, instead kissing the inside of her knee and making his way back up her thighs, grazing her skin with his teeth as he did so. She was watching him as he moved, those green eyes narrowed with her want for him. He nipped the soft flesh of her thigh and she gasped again. He kissed her in apology, perhaps he was getting a little too carried away._ _

__He continued his attentions on her inner thigh, pausing only to wet his thumb and begin drawing lazy circles around her clit. She whimpered in surprise, writhing beneath him in search of the friction he so purposefully denied from her._ _

__When he finally gave her what she wanted, his tongue stroking languidly against her core, she moaned his name in a way he would never tire of hearing. He inserted one digit, and then another, crooking them just so once he found the spot that made her squirm and lift her hips of the mattress. When he looked up at her, her eyes were screwed shut and her arm was thrown over her face, mouth agape with her pleasure._ _

__The soft sounds she made as she approached her release were exquisite, muffled as she bit down on her arm to stop herself from being too loud and alerting the adjoining room. He silently cursed Seteth's unwillingness to relocate the leader of their army to Lady Rhea's chambers, but the Archbishop's advisor still held out hope that she would be rescued alive._ _

__Next time, he wished to have her where he could hear her in all her glory._ _

__Her orgasm seemed to take her by surprise, walls clamping down on his fingers as her thighs closed around his head. He growled his satisfaction against her, carrying her through her pleasure as she quivered in his grasp._ _

__When she finally released him, he sat back to admire her. Her hair was mussed, splayed out across the pillow, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat that made her almost glow in the candlelight. What on earth had he done to deserve this?_ _

__His cock throbbed with his arousal as she lay there watching him through heavily lidded eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, more gently this time, and pressed himself against her entrance. He paused in silent question before she nodded her assent and he buried himself inside her._ _

__His mind went blank, his thoughts stuttering to a halt because she was so warm and wet and tight around him. He took a moment to calm himself, pressing himself to the hilt, before settling into a steady rhythm. She wrapped her legs around him and he groaned at the new angle. He kissed her again, and again, and adored stealing those soft sounds from her lips._ _

__Her longed to see her, see himself inside her, to worship her as she had worshipped him. He rolled them over so she was astride him, and kissed her. His hand found her hair again, fingers tightening against her scalp and urging her to sit back and ride him. She did as he commanded, eyes locked with his as she moved. Rodrigue thought he had never seen anything quite so beautiful._ _

__He was nearing his end, the pressure creeping in at the edges of his mind. He set a relentless place, pounding her from below as she tried desperately not to cry out and give them away. Not now, not when they were both so close. His hand reached for her core, rubbing circles on her clit in an effort to bring her over the edge with him._ _

__He succeeded, her walls fluttering around him as she stifled a yelp. She rode out her orgasm upon him, his breathing stuttering as he tried so hard to both feel every second of her pleasure and not spill himself inside her. When he pulled himself from her, he was overcome by white hot pleasure of his own, the world vanishing as his senses were overcome by something akin to static._ _

__As the pleasure subsided, he fumbled for something to clean himself off with before pulling his lover against him. She was boneless in his grasp, just as spent as he was, and kissed him languidly, fingers tangling in his hair. He did not deserve such happiness, but he would devour her with his love if she would let him._ _


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been in the works a long time due to an involuntary hiatus - we got a puppy and honestly I've just had the world's worst writers block. I have a few half finished chapters so hopefully will get back on track soon :)

Rodrigue's eyes fluttered open as sunlight filtered into the room through the leaded windows above Byleth's bed. He turned his head to gaze at the sleeping figure beside him, thoughts cast back to the night before. Byleth's head rested against his shoulder, her arm across his chest. She looked so peaceful, sleep washing away all the worries she wore for her students during the day. In the pale light of morning the eroticism of night had given way to an unmistakable feeling of comfort and affection.

He sighed softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He didn't want to wake her - he could've stayed tangled up in her arms forever - but there was work to be done. They had to prepare for the war council and decide on their next move. No doubt Dimitri would advocate for charging straight at Enbarr again and they would both need to be there to temper him. 

When her eyes opened the look she wore was soft, affectionate and stunningly beautiful. Rodrigue almost didn't feel like he should be on the receiving end of it.

"Good morning." 

She murmured softly, stifling a yawn. 

"Good morning." He replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, much better with you here."

She nuzzled closer, pressing kisses to his neck in a way that both brought him great contentment and stirred his arousal. 

"Byleth." He admonished lightly, although if he was honest with himself he wanted nothing more than to roll her onto her front and take her all over again.

"We need to get up."

Not that he wanted to. He would stay in this room with her all day if he could and from the looks of it she would happily join him. One day, when this war was won, he would do just that. If she would still have him. 

"Just a few more minutes."

She purred against his neck, snuggling closer against him. He wrapped his arm around her, enjoying the warmth of her against him and the tenderness of their embrace. 

It didn't take long for the self-loathing and doubt to creep into the corners of his mind, despite the serene expression which had settled on his companion's face. He didn't deserve such happiness, nor did he deserve her affection. He had failed countless people in his life and many of them he continued to fail to this very day. Plus, how would the faculty view such a liaison between them? His men? Her _students_? Unthinkable.

Byleth seemed to notice his disquiet, shifting beside him to lean on her arm and gazing at him with those big green eyes.

"What's wrong?" 

She asked softly and he wondered if she had interpreted his discomfort as second thoughts about their time together. As if in an attempt to assuage any fears she might have, he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he did so. She hummed contentedly, eyes closing for a moment before flickering open again when he parted from her. 

"I was just considering the war and our next moves. Do not worry yourself."

He caught himself before an endearment slipped out unbidden, the ease with which it fit into his thoughts of her taking him by surprise.

She seemed satisfied with his explanation and did not seem to pick up on his self doubt, settling back down beside him and drawing patterns absently on his abdomen. He should be honest with her, he knew that, but baring such thoughts to anyone - even her - was difficult. She had said in the cathedral that he would never be a failure but believing her words was difficult when he had criticised himself for so long. It was a hard habit to break.

As they enjoyed some last quiet moments in bed together, they were interrupted by a series of impatient knocks at the door.

"Professor, you're late. We were supposed to train at dawn, get the hell out of bed." 

Of all the people to come searching for her, it would have to be Felix. The professor groaned against his chest before rolling over and pulling herself out of bed. She began rifling through her drawers for underclothes as he sat on the edge of the bed and admired her. This was as good of a time to get up as any, he supposed, while trying his best to neaten his hair with his fingers.

"Sorry Felix, I overslept." 

Her gaze met his and she smirked. Rodrigue supposed that was true, even if she didn't mention the _reason_ she was up so late the night before. 

"I'll meet you at the training ground in five." 

There was an audible 'hmph' from his son beyond the door as both Byleth and Rodrigue continued to search for the clothes they had discarded the night before. He pulled on his trousers and shirt, making a mental note to return to his chambers above the Knights Hall to change before heading to the war room. The last thing he needed was people asking questions, they were in the middle of a war and that should be their sole focus.

As they reached the door he pulled her against him, arms snaking around her waist as she gazed up at him with those ethereal green eyes. He stole a kiss from her, long and sweet, and sighed when they parted, his forehead resting against her own. When this door opened things would return to normal, as if the night before had been nothing but a dream. He would count the days until he could hold her like this again. If she would let him.

Byleth stifled a laugh as he held her, her hands reaching up to straighten his overcoat. There were some creases even her attentive fingers could not disguise and she chuckled to herself. 

"You should probably get this ironed." 

She murmured, fingers tracing patterns on his chest. He kissed her one final time before unlocking the door and stepping outside. 

"Finally. It's taken you long enou-" 

Felix seemed to notice them at the same time they noticed him, his gaze flicking from the arm that still lingered around his professor's waist to his father's rumpled overcoat and mussed hair. Rodrigue cringed inwardly, the gears visibly turning in his son's head as he pieced together the scene before him. Felix's mouth snapped shut and the boy stormed off toward the greenhouse without another word. 

"Felix, wait-" 

He began, but Byleth caught his hand and stopped him when he tried to follow.

"Let him go." She pleaded quietly, fingers intertwining with his own. "He'll come around eventually. First he needs time." 

He knew she was probably right - at this point she probably knew his son better than he did - but nevertheless he felt the urge to try talking to Felix, to try and explain what he had stumbled across. Byleth did not release the grip on his hand, squeezing gently and urging him to turn back to face her.

"I should talk to him." 

She shook her head. He noticed how she lifted her other hand as if to stroke his cheek only to catch herself and drop it her side again. Whether it was for fear of someone seeing them together he did not know, but it stung just the same. Her grip on his hand did not loosen. 

"He'll talk when he's ready. I'm going to head to the training grounds just in case he decides to come back." 

She squeezed his hand again before finally pulling away. 

"I'll catch you later?" 

She asked, head tilted to one side and brow furrowed just slightly as if afraid he would say no. 

"Of course. I'll be in the war room if you need me before the council."

She nodded, before turning on her heel and heading toward the arena. He watched her go, catching the way she glanced back over her shoulder and offered a shy smile before disappearing through the heavy oak doors. 

Rodrigue, too, was true to his word. He headed to his own chambers, changing into a fresh set of clothes before asking one of the monastery staff to arrange for his coat to be cleaned and ironed. Then he headed to the dining hall to pick up something small for breakfast, before finally making his way to the war room.

It was empty, as he expected at this time in the morning, and he spent his time trying to focus on the huge map of Fodlan and what their next course of action should be.

Unfortunately, his mind had other ideas. His thoughts kept drifting back to Byleth.

The embers he'd felt for her before had been thoroughly stoked into flames by their night together and Rodrigue found he couldn't keep her off his mind. He wanted to be near her, to see those soft expressions on her face again, to feel her against him. He needed to distract himself and staring at this damned map really wasn't helping. 

He decided he would investigate what he and Byleth had spoken about the previous evening - whether or not there was any chance of swaying some of Edelgard's classmates to their side. Even if they could only persuade one, it would be enough to save Byleth and her students some heartache and that seemed like a worthy thing to focus on.

He found Ferdinand in the dining hall, eating a simple breakfast of fruit and porridge. The young man seemed surprised to see him but didn't object when he sat down opposite him at the table.

"Duke Fraldarius, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Please, Rodrigue is fine. If it isn't too much trouble I'd like to talk to you about your former classmates and the political position in the Empire. I understand no one is as familiar with the politics of Adrestia than yourself."

The boy positively preened, but Rodrigue continued before he could interject.

"The death of Count Gloucester's son has been weighing heavily on us all, none more so than on your Professor. I would like to avoid putting her through that again, if at all possible."

Was he being too familiar, he wondered, speaking of Byleth in such a way? Ferdinand did not seem phased by his suggestion, perhaps as it would give him chance to talk about one of the passions he had enthused about back in Fraldarius all those years ago. Rodrigue imagined there wasn't much time for talk about Imperial politics anymore.

"Why yes, of course! Can I interest you in some tea? The politics of the Empire is a heavy topic without some refreshment." 

Rodrigue accepted, heading to the kitchen to retrieve china for himself. Ferdinand already had a teapot and a cup of his own but seemed happy enough to share.

"I had tea with Byleth yesterday," He began, choosing his words carefully. "She said I have you to thank for teaching her how to brew it. To think that she had never had tea before coming to Garret Mach is quite incredible."

Rodrigue poured some of Ferdinand's tea into his cup; it was certainly a stronger, more perfumed blend than the Bergamot he had shared with Byleth.

"Indeed, we shared tea often at the Academy. She confided in me early on that she was unfamiliar with good tea and I offered to teach her what I know. It is partly what drew me to join her class." 

Given how the boy had fawned over his professor at the ball and back at Castle Fraldarius, Rodrigue could think of at least _one_ other reason he pursued joining her class but decided to just nod politely.

"She certainly has not forgotten what you taught her." 

He stated warmly and Ferdinand's face lit up. It was nice, sharing tea with others like he had done over the last day. It almost made the world seem normal again, as if there wasn't a war raging its way across the continent.

"I am quite pleased to hear that, although I find good tea quickly becomes a passion for many." 

The boy paused to refill his cup before setting the teapot down between them again.

"So, Imperial politics. I presume you are familiar with the great Houses and their titles?"

Rodrigue nodded his assent. He knew enough, but not as much as he should about the relationships between the houses themselves.

"Very well. I take it you are wanting to know which of my former classmates may consider joining forces with us?"

Rodrigue nodded again, watching as a grim smile settled on Ferdinand's face. 

"House Vestra has been bound to House Hresvelg for years, Hubert would die before turning his back on Edelgard. Even at the Academy his only real interest or purpose in life was to serve her."

Rodrigue listened intently, that had mirrored what Byleth had said the night before. It seemed, therefore, that trying to turn Hubert against the Emperor would be waste of breath.

"Caspar's father, Count Bergliez has been Minister of Military Affairs for years and I understand that theirs is one of the few old noble houses still enjoying their previous position in Government, the other being Count Hevring as Minister of the Interior. My own father was ousted as Prime Minister as were many of the other great Houses, including House Varley. My understanding is that both my father and Count Varley are being held under house arrest. Not that I blame Edelgard for doing so after everything they've done."

Ferdinand sighed, rubbing his temple for a moment before composing himself.

"I once thought it would fall to me to pass judgment on my father but once again Edelgard has beaten me to my own goal."

"When this war is over and if we are victorious I imagine many of the deposed houses will call for a retrial and for their former status to be reinstated. If that is the case, I am sure you will have the opportunity to sentence your father for his crimes." 

That seemed to placate Ferdinand a little, enough that he was happy to continue anyway.

"Petra and I were close before the war. She has always resented the Empire's power over Brigid. She wanted the two nations to be equals, not for her homeland to be a perpetual satellite state. She respected Byleth too, as a friend and a teacher. If anyone will listen to reason, it is her." 

"And the others?"

Ferdinand shook his head.

"Caspar, Linhardt and Bernadetta... I do not know. Linhardt was always more interested in his research than fighting. He could be persuaded. Perhaps. We defeated Caspar's step-brother when the Empire tried to retake the monastery after news of Dimitri and the Professor's return spread. I do not see him taking kindly to that. And Bernadetta... She never wanted to fight but she isn't fond of change or new situations, she may just stick with the devil she knows."

When Rodrigue first met Duke Aegir's son he had found the boy to be a little too full of his own self importance, even verging on arrogant. He seemed to value being a noble above all else, even if his heart was in the right place. The man before him now was different, more grounded and more reliant on his own strengths and abilities than on his family name.

The two made pleasant conversation for much of the morning, spanning many topics from weapon maintenance to their goals for after the war. That seemed to be a common theme; everyone talked about 'after' as if they would be victorious, but Rodrigue knew that most of them were fearful of the future and whether any of them would survive their next mission, let alone the war itself.

Today's war council was scheduled to begin at 1pm and, as usual, Rodrigue was early. He pottered about the room, shifting papers and poring over the maps of Adrestia as he waited for the others to arrive. He almost hoped that Byleth would be the first, his mind daring to hope that he could steal another kiss from her. Rodrigue shook his head; he was getting carried away.

The next person to arrive - unsurprisingly - was Seteth; the Archbishop's advisor was never one to be tardy. Not long after came Byleth, who settled across the long wooden table from him. Seteth took his place beside her, launching into a discussion about supplies and support for local villages left damaged and depleted by the Empire's conquest. It was important, the green-haired man said, to keep the people's faith and support in the Church, as a lot of people across the ravaged countries of Fodlan had little but faith left. 

Rodrigue offered what assistance he could but there wasn't much more he could give, although he had sent supplies from his territory he daren't send much more for fear of undermining the population and troops still stationed there against Cornelia. It would do no good if the defensive force in eastern Faerghus was overrun and they found themselves fighting on two fronts.

Soon the rest of the students filed in; first Felix, Ingrid, Annette, Raphael and Dorothea, followed by Sylvain and Ferdinand. Then came Ashe and Dedue, who from the looks of them had come direct from the kitchens, both covered in flour. Finally Dimitri arrived, shadowed by Mercedes, who it seemed had been the one to persuade him to leave the cathedral today. They had been taking turns, each trying their best to motivate Dimitri to attend with varying degrees of success. So far it seemed Byleth, Mercedes and Sylvain were the most successful.

The first order of business was discussing their next move. As expected Dimitri wanted to discuss an assault on Enbarr and no other options, his single focus unshifted from deposing Edelgard from the Imperial throne and destroying all who supported her. When Felix stood from his seat, slamming his fist against the wood with such force that Sylvain's cup fell over and snarled at the Prince that he was condemning them all to their deaths Rodrigue agreed with him, only to find the full force of his son's furious gaze turned on him. He expected the bite of vicious words, mocking him for pretending to care about their troops when he was clearly preoccupied with dipping his wick, but none came. Instead the dark-haired boy glared at him, slipping back into his seat and staring daggers at him across the table throughout the rest of the meeting. 

It was clear that they would have to march on Enbarr but the discussions soon moved to _how_ , preferably in a way that didn't involve charging headlong to their deaths. 

It was decided that a messenger would be dispatched to House Riegan from the forces still guarding the Great Bridge of Myrddin in the hopes that Claude and the resistance forces in the Alliance would join them. The main force of the united Kingdom and Church armies would move on Myrddin before heading onwards toward Enbarr through Gronder Field. 

With that decided, Dimitri promptly rose from the table and left, decreeing that anything else they had to discuss held no merit if it didn't involve bringing them closer to Edelgard.

Next on the agenda was what Rodrigue had discussed with Byleth and Ferdinand. Whatever unnecessary deaths could be avoided the better and all the students jumped at the opportunity to save some of their former classmates. Ferdinand and Dorothea would write to the former Black Eagles and plead with them to join forces. No matter what battles they had been involved in up to this point they would be granted amnesty and protection would be offered to any troops or Imperial citizens who also wished to defect. Lorenz's death clearly still weighed heavily on them all and so letters were drafted to Bernadetta, Linhardt, Caspar and Petra for urgent dispatch.

The disquiet in their ranks was palpable, none of them holding out much hope that their plan would be successful. However slim the chance of success it was worth trying. 

The final thing on the agenda was talk of the rumours about the Archbishop's whereabouts. Solid information was practically none existent and all they had was a hunch that she was being held in the Imperial palace.

When the meeting was finally adjourned it was growing dark outside and the group filed down to the dining hall for a quiet dinner before retreating to their rooms.

His own bed felt cold and empty. What a sentimental old man he was.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooft. Byleth flavoured angst.

With every step toward Gronder Field, Byleth felt a little more nauseous. She was glad of the horse beneath her, it meant that she would save her energy for the battle ahead, but she almost longed for the ache of road weary feet to distract her from all the thoughts swirling around her head. Her eyes settled on the horizon, seeing everything and nothing all at once.

Nothing good waited for them at Gronder Field. The messenger they had dispatched from Myrddin had been butchered, his assailants having put his mangled corpse on his horse and sending it back to them in warning. It didn't seem like something Claude would do; he was always full of schemes and clever plans but he was not cruel. Dimitri had taken it as a declaration of war from the Alliance, expecting that they wouldn't receive any aid from them here on out. 

Byleth had her doubts. She had voiced them to Rodrigue while staring out across the river in the dusky twilight and he shared her concerns, explaining how Claude had provided valuable supplies and assistance to the resistance in the years that she was gone. It didn't make sense to either of them that he would turn on them now.

Nevertheless, it meant that they were going into battle alone against not one but potentially two enemies. The thought knocked her sick. She had reconciled that she may have to fight some of her former students and friends; Bernadetta, Petra, Linhardt, Caspar and even Hubert and Edelgard - even if this war was their fault - but the thought of having to also fight the Golden Deer was something she couldn't come to terms with. 

She was clearly not alone in her apprehension. Raphael, usually the sunniest person in the camp, had been quiet and off his food. He had known Ignatz since he was a child and had bonded with his fellow fawns before joining her class. Dorothea and Ferdinand too were unusually quiet, sharing nervous glances with each other whenever they thought no one was watching. 

In the last war council before departing the monastery they had drafted letters to all the former Black Eagle students, pleading with them not to stand against them in the coming battles. They had dispatched their swiftest riders and dressed them in merchants' clothes in the hopes that they would make it through enemy lines unscathed. Byleth had waited eagerly for any response but none had come, although she supposed their wasn't enough time for a rider to reach Garreg Mach from the Empire before they began the march toward Gronder. 

Her eyes scanned the faces around her at the front of the column. Sylvain was unusually quiet. There was no time for jokes or flirting today. Ashe, Ingrid and Dedue marched together in silence and even Mercedes and Annette were not making conversation. Their apprehension was so heavy she could almost taste it in the air. Rodrigue was stony faced, eyes focused on Dimitri who was - as usual - off on his own ahead of them. 

She didn't know what she would do without Rodrigue to help her guide the resistance armies and to offer kind words and support when she needed it most. Byleth had been wielding a sword since she learned to walk and fought in other people's conflicts for years but nothing could've prepared her for leading an army. The two experiences were entirely different. Rodrigue had led armies before and had spent two decades managing his own territory so keeping on top of supplies, armaments and moral was something he was well versed in. If Byleth was honest with herself without Rodrigue their resistance would probably have crumbled long ago. 

He caught her staring and turned towards her, expression soft but curious. She offered a soft smile of her own and quickly looked away, feeling flustered in a way that she was not familiar with. Things had been different since their night together and she wasn't entirely sure why. Sex was sex (and Goddess, it was _good_ sex) but when she had taken men into her bed as a mercenary it had been quick and dirty and purely physical. An exercise in fulfilling instincts and chasing her own pleasure. With Rodrigue it had been.. intimate. That was probably the right word. And where previously she couldn't excuse herself fast enough to go and get on with her life after the deed was done, this time she found it hard to leave. These were feelings she didn't understand. Couldn't understand. It wasn't something her father had ever discussed with her. He'd known what she'd got up to on the road of course - he was no Saint himself, and they were both human after all - but feelings were something Jeralt found as hard to talk about as she did. 

She needed more time to get to grips with everything going on inside her head and here, now, standing on a hill overlooking two opposing armies was not the time or place. Her thoughts had kept her occupied long enough. Now she had to focus, for the sake of her friends, students and soldiers. 

Edelgard was the first to strike, her mages raining fire down on both the Kingdom and Alliance armies. The stench of burning hair and flesh stuck in her nostrils, thick and choking, but in a sick way it also brought a glimmer of hope - Edelgard did not see Claude as her ally. Byleth moved to Rodrigue's side, drawing his attention to the burning embers at the Alliance frontline to gauge his opinion. He smiled - a small, grim thing given the circumstances - but seemed to find the same hope in it that she did.

Dimitri was standing ahead of the frontline, amidst the smouldering remains of their fallen comrades, scowling across the field at where he knew Edelgard to be just beyond the treeline. 

"Know that I will tear your heads from your shoulders, the dead must have their tribute." 

He growled, almost to himself, but Byleth heard and mourned for the sweet boy she used to know.

The men and women behind him looked nervous, shifting uneasily while clutching their weapons in sweaty hands. Byleth moved up and down their lines on her destrier, brandishing the Sword of the Creator and clattering it against any raised shields and swords and spears.

"Today's fight will be hard, but we fight for the future of the Kingdom and Fodlan as a whole. We will be victorious." Her words felt empty, as if they turned to ash on her tongue. "We do not engage the Alliance troops unless they engage us first, they are not here as allies to the Empire-"

"Kill every last one of them!" 

The man behind her snarled, Areadbhar raised over his head to signal his troops to follow him. Her words would fall on deaf ears with him overruling her, many would obey him purely out of fear. Dimitri was not known for his mercy of late. 

A shout went up from within their lines as Dimitri charged forward, the men and women around her following him blindly. Her destrier pawed and paced beneath her - clearly unsettled - as infantry, mages and heavy horse rushed past them. Byleth wheeled her stallion round, eyes scowering the ridge Rodrigue and found him seated on his own horse looking as grim as she felt. When their eyes met he nodded before disappearing into the battle below.

She watched in shock as shouts went up from the opposing front lines and suddenly all three armies were rushing headlong toward each other.

On the central hill Edelgard's forces had constructed a ballista, with a wild-eyed Bernadetta manning it and screaming warnings for people to stay away from her. The first bolt hit an Alliance cavalryman square in the chest, carrying him off his horse as the beast spooked and kicked from the impact. The sight of it made Byleth wince. Turning her stallion towards the fray she urged him forward and down onto the battlefield. 

As she charged down the hill, Byleth spied Edelgard commanding her troops from the north-eastern treeline in full plate, gleaming silver and red in the midday sun. Dimitri was laser-focused on her; a snarling, frothing mass of muscle and black steel hacking and tearing its way through infantry and cavalry alike. Dedue wasn't far behind him, trying to keep any of Edelgard's troops from getting a lucky hit on on his liege and mostly succeeding, not that Dimitri seemed to notice any wounds in his rabid state. 

Jumping from her horse's back at the bottom of the hill, Byleth urged the creature back up the hill and away from the battle. She had always been far more skilled on foot than on horseback. 

The battle itself was a bloodbath. It seemed her words had well and truly fallen on deaf ears, many of the Kingdom's troops embroiled in bloody skirmishes with Alliance forces. At the very least her students seemed to be focused on defeating the Empire, the majority of them pushing north and east toward the central hill and where Edelgard lay beyond.

When the ballista fired again, the bolt collided with another Alliance soldier some fifty feet away from her. The sickening crunch and thud of the body hitting the ground told her that the man had not survived without even having to look. They needed to take that hill or at least remove Bernadetta from it.

The unmistakable _clank clank clank_ of the ballista reloading filled her with dread, the thought of one of those huge bolts hitting one of their men - or worse, her students - made her feel sick. She pushed forward, vaguely aware of Seteth overhead on his wyvern while Sylvain and Raphael battled Imperial soldiers in heavy plate to her right. The redhead swept his Lance under the knees of one of their opponents and finished him swiftly as Raphael grappled the other to the ground with sheer brute force, all while shouting for Sylvain to take the central hill while it was undefended.

Sylvain wheeled his horse around and charged at full speed towards where Bernadetta waited, the clanking giving way to the groaning of wood and metal as the ballista spun round to face him. 

Bernadetta screamed and Byleth watched in horror as the panicking girl fired the great metal bolt directly at her former schoolmate. It all happened in slow motion after that. Her legs moved on their own.

The bolt had struck him in the chest with dreadful accuracy and Byleth had no doubt that if she were to move him she would see it protruding from the back of his armour. His amber eyes were full of fear and the realisation that this was the end. He tried to choke out some words to no avail as Byleth clutched his hand in her own and felt a familiar power rush through her. 

Time froze and shattered and suddenly she was back moments before the bolt was loosed. Sylvain was still charging forward toward the hill, mere seconds from his demise, when she screamed at him to stop. He reigned his palfrey up at just the point Bernadetta fired, the bolt impacting the ground where he would've been had he not slowed his charge. He spent a moment glancing between her and the bolt in front of him before carrying on as he had originally intended. 

He was not the last to fall.

Petra was overhead on her wyvern, embroiled in battle with two Alliance Pegasus Knights and winning. Their dual ended, she spied Byleth, waving and sweeping down in her direction. She readied her sword but seeing the smile on the Princess' face fought the instinct to loose the blade. Just as she began to descend an arrow struck her in the throat and the girl toppled from her mount. Not twenty metres away was Ashe, bow in hand and tears streaming down his face.

When she reached the fallen wyvern rider, the girl smiled weakly and tried to grab her hand.

"Got.. your.. letter."

Fuck.

Time rewound again. 

Byleth screamed at Ashe to hold his fire and soon enough the future Queen of Brigid had defected. The blood in Byleth's veins sung like victory. The feeling did not last long.

This time it was Ashe himself who fell, rushed by a man in imperial heavy plate and a warhammer. He swung and the lithe archer went to dodge but wasn't fast enough. The hammer hit him square in the chest and the silver haired sniper crumpled in a heap with a strangled yelp. 

Again.

Time turned back once more and she was faced with the situation again, this time rushing forward to parry the blow that had connected with Ashe's chest only moments before. Tears stung in her eyes as she felled the man and turned to give the silver-haired archer a quick pat on the shoulder before rushing off into the fray. 

Felix this time, outnumbered and overpowered by Alliance brawlers.

Again.

Raphael, victim of a well-timed firebolt to the chest.

Again. 

Dimitri, running face first into a wall of lances as if forgetting he were a mortal man at all.

Again. 

Dorothea, lost to an imperial soldier on horseback. 

Again. 

Annette and Mercedes, holding hands until the very end.

Again.

Dimitri. Dedue. Ferdinand. Ingrid.

Again. 

Over and over again.

She was exhausted - truly exhausted - but the tide of the battle had turned in their favour and they were gaining on Edelgard by the minute. Linhardt had also joined their cause and the imperial troops seemed to fall into disarray knowing their best healer had deserted them. Things were finally changing for the better.

It wasn't long after that Edelgard retreated, a furious Dimitri about to give chase with Rodrigue hot on his heels. Byleth made in their direction, body and mind both aching from the exertion of battle.

Things went south quickly.

Suddenly the girl from the bridge was there, breaking from the treeline in a flurry and stalking in the King's direction. Her posture was stiff and every fibre of Byleth's being _screamed_ that something was wrong. Before she knew it the girl was behind him, screaming about how he had murdered her brother and was nothing but a worthless monster. 

Byleth's heavy legs broke into a sprint.

Dimitri didn't even try to defend himself. If the girl knew anything about him she would've known that he was already resigned to the fact that he was a monster, that he deserved to die. 

The girl lunged forward but it was not Dimitri her dagger struck. Rodrigue, ever the hero, dove forward to protect his King. 

He called out to Byleth to finish this, destroy the threat, voice laced with pain, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. The sword at her side unfurled, whipping forward and catching the girl in the neck before she had chance to withdraw the dagger and try again.

Byleth didn't even see the girl collapse, clutching at her throat as if such a futile gesture could undo the work of a sword made from the bones of an ancient god. She only saw Dimitri's hunched form, leaning over his surrogate father and murmuring words she couldn't quite hear. 

Her legs moved on her own, carrying her closer to a scene she didn't want to see.

Rodrigue was cradled in Dimitri's arms, dagger still embedded deep in his chest. The blood seeped further and further across his coat by the second and Byleth knew what paltry white magic she knew could not fix this. She screamed for Mercedes, Manuela, Linhardt - anyone - and frantically attempted to stabilise him by herself.

He took her glowing hand in one of his, giving her the ghost of a smile before slipping away from her. 

For the second time in her life, Byleth cried.

The emotions roiled just beneath the surface, barely contained as she sobbed at Rodrigue's side. This couldn't happen, it _couldn't_. 

The world around her froze once again, every ounce of her strength funnelled into rewinding time.

The Sword of the Creator unfurled like an extension of her will, surging forward and sinking into the girl's shoulder. But it wasn't enough. The girl was still lunging forward and Rodrigue was still moving to get in the way and-

It happened again. 

The girl stabbed him and once again he crumpled to the ground in front of Dimitri. 

This couldn't happen. It couldn't.

She was so desperately tired, stumbling toward the little group huddled around where Rodrigue had fallen. There were others with them now, Felix, Ashe and Mercedes. 

"One last time."

She muttered to herself, closing her eyes and trying to draw on her power again. The familiar shattering of reality never came. 

Byleth panicked, holding out a hand in an attempt to channel every last drop of energy into her divine pulse. Never before had she rewound time so many times that she had hit a limit but this battle had taken a heavy toll. 

She staggered closer still, the Sword of the Creator clattering to the ground as she tried to focus again, calling on Sothis to lend her aid in a hopeless plea. But Sothis didn't come and neither did her power. She was well and truly spent. 

With a whimper she collapsed to the ground, vaguely aware of the shouts going up around her and people coming to her assistance. Her eyes focused on Dimitri's heavy cloak and where she knew Rodrigue lay beyond. She had failed. Perhaps this was like what had happened to her father. As Sothis has said all those years ago, some things cannot be changed no matter how painful they may be. Perhaps Rodrigue's death was one of those things that she couldn't escape.

Despite herself, she thought she saw him moving as her eyes fluttered closed.


End file.
